


We Do Not Look at Goblin Men

by DollopheadedMerlin



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Curses, Episode: s03e03 Goblin's Gold, Gen, Hurt Leon, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt Morgana, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, Injury, Possession, Recovery, Spells & Enchantments, Stuttering, The Goblin, Whump, arthur is an ass, donkey arthur, goblin gaius, possessed gaius, stroke, the friendship is pretty dang soft okay?, there's no shipping in this fic but the friendship?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 39,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21721960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollopheadedMerlin/pseuds/DollopheadedMerlin
Summary: Merlin never finds out that Gaius is possessed by the goblin and lives with the shame of disappointing his guardian and mentor. When Gaius frames Merlin for the goblin's trickery, Arthur and Gwen must act fast to save their friend before he is executed.
Comments: 24
Kudos: 143
Collections: Finish that Fic Merlin!





	1. The Lead Laden Chest

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, did I actually post a fic? Thank goodness for Finish That Fic Merlin because who knows how long this would have taken me if I didn't have motivation lol.  
> Basically this is Goblin's Gold but infinitely more angsty.

Gwen slowly swung the door open and stepped inside. Gaius's chambers were tidy, cleaner than she had ever seen them before. The tables were all clear, save for a centerpiece or two. All of the potions and remedies were safely stored away in their cabinets. The water in the leech tank was clear and there wasn't a speck of dust in sight. 

She made her way across the room, Arthur creeping in after her, a cloak pulled down over his face. She looked back at him in concern as they ascended the steps up into Merlin's room. 

Just like the main chambers, the room was pristine, everything neatly tucked into place. Finding no one inside, Gwen moved towards the bed and bent down to inspect the floorboards. 

“So it's true,” she muttered to herself as she pulled the magic book from its hiding spot. Arthur knelt over her, eyeing the eerie staff in confusion and bewilderment. His eyes stung with tears but he wiped them away, turning to face the rest of the room. 

As Gwen was slipping the book into her bag, she heard Arthur scrape something across the floor and spun around to see him pushing a decent sized chest away from the wall. Her eyes widened at the sight of it and leapt to join him in the corner of the room. 

“This must be it,” she gasped.

Arthur guided her attention to the lock on the clasp of the chest, holding it out as far as it would reach.

She sighed. “We don't have time. We'll have to deal with that later. Let's just get out of here before he gets back.”

Arthur nodded and bent down with her to pick up the chest. They heaved it up into the air before ushering themselves through the door. Once out in the corridor, they paced themselves, walking swiftly in long strides, constantly turning their heads to see if anyone had spotted them. 

At long last, they made it out to the courtyard where Leon was waiting for them, face half diseased and eyes full of concern. 

Arthur and Gwen set the crate down and hurriedly began setting up in the horse wagon Leon had brought them. The knight stepped forwards, looking down at the chest. “Is this . . .”

Gwen paused in her preparation and bit her lip, nodding to Leon with dread and regret in her eyes. 

“My god,” Leon whispered. “It's so small.”

“Leon, please. We need to get going,” Gwen said from within the wagon, gesturing for the knight to hand her the chest. He obliged, getting it up with great effort and into the back of the wagon. Gwen tugged it by the handle until it was secured further in. Then she crouched down by the mound of supplies and preservations. 

“Go,” Leon told them, pacing around to the front to address Arthur at the bow. “I will seek you out if there is any change.”

Arthur nodded before urging the horse to start, eagerly guiding them towards the city wall. 

Leon slipped back into place like a pawn onto a chess square. Council was still in session and Uther was still addressing the court with Gaius stood to his right. Leon stared across the room at Gaius, watching the way his eyes twinkled with mischief. It was so unlike him. 

“I believe that this far exceeds the amount of evidence we’d need to convict,” Uther declared, hoisting the musty old book of spells up into the air, holding out his other hand as well as if to gesture towards all of the frightful stories that Gaius had told. “Guards! Retrieve the boy immediately!” 

Leon stood straight and followed Uther’s men to the physician's chambers, acting the part as they all barged in with spears. He and Uther’s head knight stood behind the spearsmen, sword remaining at their hip as they addressed an empty room. 

Uther swept in with Gaius at his heel. Before the king could call a search, Gaius spoke up. 

“I secured him in the back room, my lord.”

Uther barked orders and the polearm guards continued onward, crowding up the steps until they were all inside. 

Uther’s knight spoke then, voice deep and respectful. “He appears to have fled, sire.”

“Impossible!” Gaius shouted, face flushed and eyes accusing. “Beneath the window, you fools.”

Gaius and Uther marched into the room and the physician gaped when the room was, indeed, empty. He stared at the spot where he knew the convict was meant to be, wracking his brain for an explanation. 

Uther schooled his features. “Search the castle. We must capture this sorcerer before he causes any more harm.”

Gaius fumbled for words for a moment, but eventually said, “I-I must apologize, my lord. I believed I had him secured, uh, more properly.”

“You are not to blame, Gaius,” Uther dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Magic is evil trickery. You are not the first to be fooled by a sorcerer who appeared weak.” 

Gaius bowed.

Leon set his jaw, refraining from staring down the old man as he exited the chambers to assist with the search. 

Arthur bowed his head, hands loose around the empty tankard in front of him. Gwen leaned forwards, whispering. “We need to find someone to help us with this lock. We don't have the proper tools.”

Arthur looked up at her sadly. With all of Gwen's expertise in blacksmithing, she was powerless to break the lock with no instruments. He glanced down at the chest where it laid beside their table, the wood was lined with lead, pieces of the panelling were missing from when he and Gwen had attempted to tear off the sides of the chest, only to be met with solid metal on the inside. 

Suddenly a pair of boots stepped up to the crate and he let his gaze follow up the man’s figure until he landed on a rugged stranger's face, smiling. 

“That's some treasure you've got there,” he said with a smirk. 

Arthur glared at the man and tugged his hood down further over his eyes. 

“You don't have the key, do ya?”

Gwen looked at Arthur with wide eyes, worry seeping into her straining heart. 

The stranger looked to Gwen, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. “Though you seem far greater than any treasure.”

Arthur watched the man carefully as Gwen politely took her hand back. 

“And who might you be? A pirate?”

The stranger laughed. “No such luck. I'm just a man looking for trouble.”

“I see,” Gwen humored. 

“And by the looks of you two, I think I might have found it.”

Gwen tried to look offended. “Well I think you might have been misled. We—"

“Please, you two don't look like thugs. A mysterious, hooded figure, a charming lady, and a chest of treasures? Seems like you two are stuck between a rock and a hard place.” 

Gwen laughed nervously. “I'm no lady. And we can manage on our own, I think.”

The stranger put his foot up on Gwen's bench and leaned on his knee, smirking. He looked between the two of them, eyes shining. “What if I told you I could pick that lock?”

Arthur sat up straight and locked eyes with Gwen as they both realized that they had found their answer. 

Gwen and Arthur set the chest down in the center of their room at the inn. The stranger stood over it, a slim dagger in his hand. 

“What are you going to want in return for this?” Gwen asked skeptically before he could start. 

“Just a drink,” he answered as he knelt down and began toying with the lock. Gwen and Arthur exchanged nervous looks as he worked, the room silent save for the occasional grunt and the clinking of metal on metal. 

“Name’s Gwaine,” he said as he shifted his position over the lock to get a better look. When no one answered, he glanced back at them over his shoulder. “And you two might be . . .”

“Gwen.” She answered quickly, anxiously.

“And what about him?”

Gwen fidgeted with the hems of her sleeve.

“Is he mute or something? Can't speak, huh?” 

Arthur glared daggers at the man, shooting Gwen a look to show her how annoyed he was by the comment.

Gwen chewed on her lip. “Yes.”

“Really? You didn't sound too sure about that.”

The lock clicked and fell open into Gwaine’s hand. He stood up and stretched. “There we go. Open as my relationships.”

Arthur and Gwen's hearts were pounding at the sight of the lockless chest. They were anxious to open it but afraid of what they would find inside.

“Well, are you gonna open it?”

“What?”

“The chest . . . You can open it now.”

Gwen looked between Arthur, the chest, and the man they just met. “Perhaps you should leave.”

“No offense to your privacy, but I think I'd fancy finding out what I helped you two steal.” 

“We didn't steal!” Gwen argued. 

“Besides, I ought to stick around to be sure you don't bail on me before buying me that drink.”

Arthur nudged Gwen in the arm and she looked up to see the tears in his eyes. She bit her tongue. He was right. They were wasting time. The chest had remained closed for long enough. 

“Alright,” she agreed. “But you have to stay over there, against the wall.”

Despite sensing the tension in the room, Gwaine’s curiosity won the better of him and he retreated to the wall that Gwen had condemned him to, hands raised in surrender. He leaned casually against the wall, ready for a show. 

Arthur and Gwen pushed the chest upright so that they could pry it open. The latch was tight and strained against the box’s contents. They struggled to pull the clasp down and over the ridge before the lid sprung open. What they didn't expect was for a pair of feet to push their way out. 

“Oh God,” Gwen gasped as she frantically moved to help tilt the box back onto its side. 

Gwaine looked on in horror as they examined the pair of legs that emerged from the chest, wondering what crime he had stumbled into this time.

The legs only stuck out up to the start of their shins, limply laying atop one another. 

“The knees are stuck on the rim,” Gwen muttered and she and Arthur carefully put their hands inside to try and ease the rest of the limbs out. 

Gwen lost control of her breathing as the rest of the legs came loose but stiffly refused to straighten out completely, stuck partially bent. She and Arthur both had tears rolling down their faces as they tried to maneuver the rigid limbs. They each grabbed an ankle and pulled to try and dislodge the rest of the body. Gwen cried out in woe as the crate sickeningly followed the body across the floor, the torso too stubbornly constricted to come loose. 

Pulled from his own shock and horror, Gwaine leapt forwards to help, holding down the chest for them to try again. Arthur and Gwen braced themselves against the floor and tugged on the legs until they heard a soft, hollow pop and the body moved, sinking slightly towards the floor. 

Crying and panting, Gwen and Arthur rushed forwards to slide the rest of the body out of the chest, no longer stuck. 

Arthur began to wheeze at the sight of it. Before them lied Merlin, thin and crooked in the floor, dressed in nothing but his small clothes. 

Gwen, babbling incoherently, reached forwards and searched for a pulse. She gasped, hugging Merlin's limp form to her chest, and sobbing, “He’s alive! He's alive!”

Arthur crawled forward and took Merlin's wrist to see for himself. He tilted his head back in relief as he felt the faint beat beneath his fingers.

It felt like forever had passed before Arthur and Gwen remembered the fourth person in the room. They looked up to find Gwaine standing over them, expression schooled but body rigid and shaking. 

“Thank you,” Gwen said softly as she carded her fingers through Merlin's hair. 

Gwaine smiled slightly, then furrowed his brow, looking at Arthur. “Why is he an ass?”

Gwen looked to see that Arthur's hood had fallen off in their struggles and he sat, teary eyed, with his donkey ears sticking out. Gwen sighed at the sight, feeling utterly exhausted.


	2. A Spoon to Feast With

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwaine gets acquainted with his new companions as Leon surveys the situation back in Camelot.

“So let me get this straight,” Gwaine said, another tankard of mead in his hand. “This this guy's father—"

“Mentor.”

“—turned on everyone, throwing magic this way and that. He made you an ass, and stuffed his poor ward into a box? Then accused him of a crime . . . Then . . . Wait, I'm a bit lost.”

Gwen's brow was scrunched up in worry. “He was being abused, Gwaine. Gaius was like a father to him. He would have done anything for him. It's no wonder he didn't come to us for help when he started drinking.”

“Wait. All of this change comes over an old man because he started drinking? I don't buy that. There's nothing all that evil about going out for a few drinks.”

Gwen shook her head. “It's the only explanation we could think of. He started going to the tavern and Merlin started behaving differently.” 

Gwaine leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs on top of the desk, looking back at the small man in the bed. Merlin's shoulder had dislocated when they got him out of the chest and he had stayed to help them set it, horrifyingly receiving no reaction from the invalid whatsoever. He was laid out on the bed, unresponsive and weak, his knees and elbows still resisting to straighten out all the way. 

Humming to himself, Gwaine looked back to the lady and the ass. He may act a tad irresponsible or immature, but he wasn't stupid. He knew that Gwen had left a few rather crucial details out of their tale. He didn't know who this “Gaius” was or why everyone believed him over the people before him, he didn't know what crime Merlin was accused of, and he still didn't know the ass’s name. He remained stubbornly quiet and Gwen quickly derailed the subject of introductions whenever Gwaine tried to pry. So, he decided that, as exciting as the story his new friends had told already was, he'd rather much like to stick around and see how things were to unfold for the unfortunate trio. 

“So,” Gwaine said awkwardly, strolling into the room, “I happen to be short a bit on my fee for staying here.”

Gwen sighed sympathetically. “How much do you need, Gwaine?” 

Gwaine bit his lip and swayed forwards and back. “All of it.”

“What?”

“Look. I typically don't stay in one place for too long. I tend to . . . er . . .”

“You hop from bed to bed and leave without paying?” 

“That's it,” Gwaine admitted with a cheeky smile. 

Gwen looked to Arthur, who shot her a look of disapproval. She chewed on her lip and pondered the idea of paying off the man's debt with some of the riches that they had packed for the trip. 

“Again, I typically don't do this sort of thing.”

“You mean paying.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to stick around. After all, it looks like you two could use all the help you can get.” Gwaine shrugged and anxiously awaited an answer. 

Gwen looked down at her sewing and thought some more. With a sigh, she set down her work and dug through a bag until she found a small sack of coins. She tossed them into Gwaine's hands. 

Arthur made a small, hesitant noise of protest but she ignored him. “Pay off your debt, Gwaine. But you should stay here with us now, so you won't have to worry about any fees.”

Shocked, Gwaine just stood there for a moment. Then, he nodded his thanks and winked before retreating into the hall. 

Arthur let out an undignified bray, and looked at Gwen incredulously. 

Gwen shook her head at him. “You remember my brother, Elyan, don't you? I still haven't heard from him after all these years . . . He's just so _reckless_. Gwaine reminds me of him, in a way. If Elyan is out there running from town to town like this, I'd hope that someone else might show him the same kindness that we've shown Gwaine.”

Arthur sighed and leaned back into his chair, folding his arms over his chest. 

Gwaine trudged up the steps and into the room, huffing and sweating from head to toe. The door squealed open and he found Gwen and Arthur sitting over Merlin's bed. They looked up with wide, hopeful eyes as he entered. 

“I found one,” he said gruffly, holding up a small glass jar with a thin, black leech wriggling around inside. 

“Thank you, Gwaine!” Gwen said, as she rushed to collect the specimen. 

“What are you gonna use that thing for anyway?” 

“It's difficult for me to explain,” she answered as she opened the jar. “I hardly understand it myself. Merlin's hands and feet were discolored when we retrieved him from the chest, and he's yet to wake up. I can remember Gaius telling me of the four humors once; yellow bile, black bile, blood, and phlegm . . . If Merlin's skin is red or purple, it should mean that his humors are unbalanced and he has too much blood.”

Gwaine clocked an eyebrow. “Don't know if that makes too much sense to me.”

Gwen shook her head. “Even if it isn't his humors, Gaius said that leeches help with circulation and breaking down blood clots. Whether you believe in the humors or not, something's not right with Merlin's blood if his hands and feet appear to be bruised.” 

“So you're going to trust the teachings of the man who did this to him?”

Gwen sighed. “Gaius was a good man . . . I'm not sure what's happened to him now, but . . . I do know that a month ago he was a completely different person, a kind and caring physician.”

Looking to the ground awkwardly, Gwaine walked away towards the chair in the corner. 

Arthur watched as Gwen placed the leech on Merlin's arm, letting it inch its way around until it found a nice, supple vein to latch onto. 

“Now we wait.” 

Arthur sighed and rested his arms on the bed and pillowed his head with them. He watched anxiously as the leech began to slowly grow in size. His eyes periodically flickered to Merlin's face, where he remained still and silent. 

It was unnatural to see the bubbly servant this way. He was so pale and limp. He expelled such a sense of tragedy as he lay prone on the bed, that it was difficult to associate the weak and unmoving figure with the friendly, loyal boy that they all had grown to know and love. Arthur wondered where magic hid behind Merlin's devotion. Perhaps it was somewhere between the cheery smile and the loneliness in his eyes. Wedged in a place untouched, behind his laughter but in front of his fatigue. 

“Ah-ha,” Gwen cheered quietly. “I've finally finished it.”

Arthur looked up to see her holding out a green tunic before the fireplace. 

“It's not really his color, but it was all I had. He'll need a few sets of clothes. We really should have thought to take some from his wardrobe.”

Arthur huffed and rested his head back down. 

Gwaine chewed on a reed and watched them keep vigil over their friend, not entirely sure what he'd gotten himself into. 

Leon sat, his head in his hands, as his servant left the room. He had helped conduct a dozen searches that day, all in the hopes of finding Merlin and Guinevere and arresting them for treason. Uther was lead to believe that they had stolen Arthur away in his vulnerable state. Gaius truly had the king under his thumb. 

Leaning back in his seat, the knight scratched at his jawline. The boils had receded but he was left with an unbearable rash that stung like a hundred wasps. He knew that there was little purpose for fretting, though. By then, he knew that Gaius was causing all of the ailments he cured. If he were to ask him for a remedy, he would only be left with another irritant of some kind. Instead of pouring all of his earnings into the old con man, he rather thought it best to just wait it out and hope he wasn't to die of whatever he had put into his last potion. 

Standing in his nightclothes, Leon paced over to the window, looking out at the treetops in the distance and wondering how his friends were faring. 

“Arthur.”

Arthur made a small mewling noise and rolled over. 

“Arthur.”

Throwing his blanket off of him, he let out a short, irritated grunt and found himself staring up at an anxious looking Guinevere. 

“He's awake.”

Eyes wide, Arthur scrambled onto his knees and knelt by the bed, searching the pale body laid out before him for signs of life. 

Merlin's eyes were open, but they were unfocused and still. His mouth was parted and his breathing had journeyed from small, shallow breaths to long, deep sighs. 

Arthur's eyes flickered to Gwen, a question.

“He hummed a bit in his sleep. He looked around for a few moments, but nothing more.” 

Arthur sighed, disappointed. 

“Arthur,” Gwen scolded, “this means we might be able to get some food into him.”

Arthur's ears perked up at that and he turned onto his feet to go fetch some broth from their leftovers. 

Merlin sat, propped up by a few of their bags and a layer of pillows, eyes half lidded and head nodding towards sleep. Gwen worried at her lip as he continued to try and stay awake, finding different things to stare at with his emotionless face. 

Gwaine sat by the desk again, awkwardly fiddling with a quill, wary of intruding but not wanting to abandon his new friends in their endeavor. 

Arthur scratched behind his ear and sighed. In that moment, Merlin chose to stare at his face and the prince recoiled. Merlin might have been awake but he wasn't aware, there was no recognition in those eyes. Something swelled within his chest and he surged forwards to grasp Merlin's hand firmly, desperately.

“He's getting better,” Gwen assured. “And it's only been three days since he's woken.”

Arthur huffed and began to rub his thumb along Merlin's knuckles. 

“He just needs to get his strength back.”

They fell into silence as Gwen went back to her sewing. Gwaine's ears began to ring and he honestly just couldn't stand the melancholy any longer. So, he turned to sit backwards in his seat, folding his arms over the back, and said, “What's he like?”

“What?”

“Your Merlin fellow? What's he like?”

Arthur stared at Gwaine suspiciously, ears pointing back, but Gwen answered readily. “He is kind.”

Gwaine huffed. “Yes, well, we all wish to say that about our friends, don't we? What's he really like?"

Gwen sighed wistfully, looking to Arthur. “He's a loyal friend, always putting others before himself.”

Gwaine chewed a bit more vigorously on his reed, not entirely believing his new companions. 

“He just . . . puts too much trust in people sometimes, when he loves them.”

Gwaine hummed, looking to the floor to save the ass some dignity when his eyes started watering. 

“He’ll pull through, you know. He always does with these sorts of things,” Gwen mused to herself as she continued to weave her thread down the side of a new pair of trousers. A small smile graced her face as she worked, even as Merlin's eyes fell fully closed and he sagged further into the pillows. 

Arthur was perched on a stool beside Merlin once again. He wasn't good for much else in his condition. He couldn't go shop in the nearby market like Gwen was, not without seeming like the rudest person alive considering he couldn't even say hello. He couldn't go downstairs to ask the locals and the travelers about the area like Gwaine was, not without his voice. He was even afraid of going downstairs late at night. There were too many drunkards that threw themselves about the place, swooning. The last thing he wanted was for someone pull back his hood to give him a sloppy kiss on the cheek only for his floppy donkey ears to perk up, exposing him to everyone. 

He felt a bit useless, not being able to do anything on his own, but he supposed that he'd be at his wit's end not knowing how Merlin was doing anyway. He just wasn't used to this sort of thing. He didn't feel incredibly productive being left behind to keep the half asleep victim company, but someone had to watch Merlin, and he did want to be there when his friend came to his senses. 

He sighed as he took the soup off the fire and ladled some into a bowl. Merlin had been semiconscious for the past hour and making low humming noises to himself, but he did look vaguely in Arthur's direction when he returned to his side. 

He would have made a quip about how lazy Merlin was to try and draw him out of his stupor or comment on his cooking skills, but, instead, all he could do was jostle the boy's shoulder a bit to get his eyes to flutter open. Once he deemed Merlin awake enough to swallow without choking, he brought a spoonful to his lip and eased it into his mouth. 

He continued on like this for a few moments in agonizing silence, until Arthur noticed something curious. He looked down to see Merlin's left hand had wriggled out from underneath the blankets and was raised slightly off the bed, fingers flexing weakly as if reaching for something. 

Heart suddenly pounding in his chest, Arthur took Merlin's arm by the elbow and helped him raise it the rest of the way. Then, he set the bowl of soup down in Merlin's lap, careful to balance it between his thighs, and dipped the spoon in. He held his breath and watched as Merlin's hand found the spoon and shakily began to lift it to his face. 

Arthur made a small noise of excitement, but smothered it in fear that the voice of a donkey may startle Merlin. He quickly held a cloth under his friend's chin as his trembling hand placed the spoon in his own mouth. He made another small humming noise as he succeeded, closing his eyes for a moment before concentrating on letting the spoon land back into the bowl instead of on his sheets. 

A few bites later and Gwen and Gwaine walked in together, arms full of goods. Arthur squealed, unable to hold in his glee any longer and Gwaine nearly dropped the basket he was holding from the shock of hearing the sounds of an animal coming from the mouth of a man. 

“What is it, Arthur?” Gwen questioned, immediately setting down her things and rushing to his aid. 

Arthur made another arrangement of enthusiastic brays as he gestured to the spoon in Merlin's hand as it was lowered back into the bowl once more. 

Gwen's eyes teared up and she smiled. “That's great! He's starting to move around?”

Arthur nodded, braying again, but just then Merlin's hand left the spoon. In their excitement Arthur and Gwen hadn't noticed at first, not until Merlin's frail fingers were reaching out towards Arthur's head. 

They all watched in curious silence and Merlin's face morphed into a slight, uneven smile. His fingertips brushed the hair on Arthur's ear and he ran his hand up the length of it, looking vaguely amused. 

Arthur beamed back at him, eyes wide and shining. He reached up and grasped Merlin's hand in his, holding it tight, just as he had been over the past few nights. 

Merlin leaned towards him, a low sound rumbling in his throat a few times before he found words. “Ha . . . Hmmm . . . Deh . . . Don . . . key.” 

Arthur couldn't help but laugh and so another bout of braying erupted from him, causing Merlin's uneven smile to widen and his eyes to twinkle. 

Gwaine looked on from a distance, watching the odd group rejoice. “I believe I may be in way over my head with you lot.”

Merlin began to improve steadily after that, staying awake for more hours of the day, getting more food and water into him. He was still disoriented, but progressively coming out of his haze. 

Arthur was cheerier for it, being left behind wasn't so boring when he actually had someone to talk back at him. Though it was worrisome that Merlin hadn't questioned the donkey ears, rather just appreciating the hilarity of them being perched on Arthur's head. 

Merlin made a low, humming noise and his face scrunched up in discomfort. Arthur looked up at him with a question in his eyes. 

He curled in on himself slightly, his knees pressed together. 

Arthur sighed, realizing that Merlin needed to relieve himself. He got up off of his stool and rolled the blankets off of Merlin's legs. He then slowly helped his servant to stand. 

Merlin truly wasn't ready to walk yet, but the humiliation of needing aid to pee was bad enough. Arthur was determined to preserve whatever dignity he could for Merlin, if he was to remember his time spent in slight delirium. 

He got Merlin up, though he really only appeared to be standing. His legs were bare, bent and weak and Arthur was basically holding up all of his weight by his underarms. Merlin was without his trousers, resting only in the oversized, green shirt that Gwen had made him.

When he got Merlin positioned over the chamber pot, he placed Merlin's hands at his hips, allowing Merlin the option to try and pull down his small clothes by himself. Alas, he couldn't muster the energy to move them very far and so Arthur tried his best to keep his eyes skyward as he helped. 

Once Merlin was finished, his cheeks were flushed and eyes downcast. Guilt bubbled in Arthur's stomach as he realized that Merlin was aware enough to understand what had happened. Eager to make him more comfortable, Arthur helped him back into bed and covered him up to his chest in linens. 

Then Merlin did something that he hadn't done before, not since they had recovered him from that puny crate. He curled onto his side, guarding himself, and mumbled. “I'm sorry.”

Arthur wanted to scream. He wanted to shout and yell that it was okay, that he needed to accept his and Guinevere’s help. But he couldn't. All he could do was place his hand on Merlin's shoulder, only to recoil when the boy flinched. 

The prince bit his lip. The more aware Merlin was becoming, the more wary he behaved. It made him wonder about Gaius, and the fate of his poor servant. 

Leon tossed and turned in the night, slick with sweat and radiating a heat so unbearable he feared he would go up in flames. 

The rash from Gaius's potion had spread to nearly his entire body before it seemed to be absorbed into his skin, creeping into him until it was able to nestle within his heart, his very core, boiling his innards and burning his soul. 

He could take it no longer. 

He would have to go to the treacherous physician.

Gaius clicked his tongue as he was beckoned into the knight’s chambers by a guard the following morning. “You should have sent for me sooner, Sir Leon. Your condition has worsened severely. I did warn you that it was unlikely to simply pass on its own.”

“Please,” Leon wept, hardly able to move from where he lay prone on his bed. “Gaius.”

“You know my price.”

“Take it,” Leon begged.

Gaius smiled cruelly and turned to his medicine bag, retrieving a foul looking, green potion. He roughly lifted Leon's head up off his pillow and poured the vial’s contents down his throat. The knight swallowed thickly and tears welled in his eyes. 

“You should be right as rain in no time,” Gaius commented as he turned to leave, picking a gold coin out of Leon's chest. 

The door clicked shut as the old man left and Leon was left to ponder what horrors he was meant to endure come the effects of this new remedy within him. His thoughts were muddled and dulled by the pain, however. All he could truly do was hope for mercy and will the pain to recede more swiftly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned that I already finished writing the fic? I'm just posting chapters as I give them a final read through to make sure that there are no major errors so updates should be pretty quick!


	3. Interrogations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin becomes more aware.

“Why d-d-do you l-loo-l-look like that?” Merlin asked. Whatever amusement he had once found in Arthur's ears was gone. Instead, Merlin was irritable and confused. He'd been so for two days, driving his friends mad. 

Arthur brayed in response, hoping to coax a laugh out of his weak friend. But Merlin's brow only furrowed and he looked about the room. “Where are — Wuh-where are we?” 

Biting his lip, Arthur frowned at Merlin. His stammering was becoming worrisome. That, and the fact that Merlin had already asked that question four times previously that day. 

Thankfully, Gwen strode into the room with a tired smile on her face. “I've brought dinner!” she said, trying to remain cheerful for Merlin as she placed a whole tray of fresh foods from the tavern downstairs. 

Merlin looked up at her. “Arthur won't-t-t-talk to me.”

Gwen sighed and bent down to speak to Merlin. “Merlin, he can't talk right now. He's unwell and can't speak properly.” That was the best answer that they had found so far. Any details about a curse would worry Merlin too much. Any less detail, however, would leave him begging for an explanation. 

Merlin sighed, not in exasperation, but in a way that made him sound weary, like he was dealing with troublesome folk who wore him to the bone. He sunk back into his pillows and closed his eyes, brow pinched up in some sort of discomfort. 

Arthur and Gwen grimaced at each other. They were trying to take Merlin's newfound energy as a sign of improvement, but his behavior was incredibly unnerving. 

Breaking eye contact, Guinevere sat down and dug through her bag, retrieving a bundle of herbs before going over to the fire. She lit the end of the bundle before setting it down on a ceramic plate on the desk. The flame diminished quickly but the dried plant continued to smolder and a thin ribbon of smoke steadily rose into the air.

Arthur made a small noise to gain her attention, cocking an eyebrow when she looked at him. 

“Oh. It's sage.” She sat back down next to Arthur and began dividing the food onto four plates. “My brother is a man of superstition — or at least, he was when I knew him. He always believed in good luck charms and small rituals that would help with the little things . . . Sage is supposed to be healing; wards away bad omens . . .” She looked down at Merlin's troubled face. “. . . and sickness.”

Arthur followed her gaze. What she spoke of was dangerously close to magic and his gut stirred at the thought. Looking at Merlin's face, it was difficult to imagine that his eyes could glow gold like those of the monsters he fought in childhood fairytales. 

Gwaine strode through the door, a crossbow and two rabbits in his hands. He stared at the fresh food that Gwen brought with great want but quickly suppressed it, moving to finish the task he'd been asked to do. 

“Dinner is going to get cold,” Gwen called a few moments later, as Gwaine was finishing up his duties. He joined them by the table, wiping some of the grime from his hands onto his pants. “I'm sorry you had to hunt for us. We really appreciate it.”

Gwaine glanced at Arthur's donkey ears and said, “The honor is all mine.” An amused smile crept onto his face as he pulled his plate close. 

Merlin was roused but didn't seem to wake fully, fatigue beckoning him back towards slumber. He was able to feed himself, but he wasn't entirely aware of his surroundings. They honestly doubted if he could even taste his food. 

Gwaine nodded towards Merlin's slowly rising hand as he lifted his spoon. “He's left handed?” 

Gwen frowned. “No.”

Gwaine gave her a curious look but she appeared to be just as confused as he was. Suddenly, everyone was watching Merlin eat at an agonizingly slow rate, his hand weakly holding the spoon and his eyes blinking slow and drowsily. 

Gwen wiped her eyes and stood, gathering the dishes. 

Leon felt remarkably better in a few days time. 

His symptoms had cleared and, though he was still incredibly weak and exhausted, there was no longer a fire burning in his chest or coals in his stomach. He sat and pondered this as he slowly took a sip of his wine, arm shaking but strength slowly but surely returning to him. Perhaps the old man grew tired of abusing him and had truthfully healed him at last. Perhaps he was bored of the elder knight and had moved on to torment more gullible squires. Perhaps he was allowing the man a short break to quell his suspicions or alight some false hope.

Whatever the case, Leon was glad to feel right in his own skin again, for however long it would last. He would worry about his prince and his friends later, once he was recovered. For now, he would avoid the manic physician and keep his head low for as long as possible. 

He definitely wouldn't want another curse to befall him. 

Merlin had slept through most of the following day, only rousing slightly around lunch time, giving them just enough opportunity to get some food into him.

Arthur and Gwen weren't surprised. Merlin's restless energy on the days in which he grew irritated and forgetful often sapped him of what little energy he had. He would worry himself mad and work his brain so hard trying to argue with or to interrogate his friends that he'd be just as invalid as they day they got him out of the crate by the time the day was over. 

So, Gwen lit another bundle of sage and Gwaine went with Arthur for a walk so that he might finally have a chance to stretch his legs and get some fresh air. 

The next morning, however, brought a surprise for them all. 

Arthur came to as the sun rose and he rubbed at his eyes, slowly pushing himself up off his pile of blankets on the floor. He blinked against the light streaming in through the window until his eyes landed on Merlin. Who was awake. 

Arthur sprung to his feet and sat beside his servant once more. Merlin appeared confused, but not in the agitated way that he had been recently. Instead, he appeared tired and slow, eyes gradually finding Arthur's as that old, lopsided smile finally slipped onto his face again. 

“Hello,” he said with a slur. His eyes drooped and he leaned towards his prince. 

Arthur nodded his hello. 

Merlin squinted at him then and his eyes seemed to focus more. “Wah-whu . . . What happened t-to you?” 

Arthur gave him a questioning look and tilted his head. Once again, Merlin reached out with his left hand to touch his ears, as though this was the first time he had ever noticed them. He gingerly ran his fingers up the furred extremity, a curious look on his face. 

Gwen and Gwaine were still asleep on the floor, leaving Arthur with no proper way of answering. So, he let loose a loud bray to wake his friends. 

Merlin's eyes went wide at the sound and he leaned back into his pillows, taking his hand back. Gwen was on her feet with a smile on her face in an instant. Sitting opposite Arthur and patting Merlin on the knee. “How do you feel?”

Merlin sighed, seemingly noticing his own fatigue for the first time. “I've b-been better. Where's G-g-gaius?”

Gwen bit her lip and shared a nervous look with Arthur. “He's not here. He's back in Camelot.”

Merlin's brow furrowed. “Whu . . . wha-where are we?”

“We’re just south of the city, in an inn.”

“W-why?”

Gwen didn't answer right away and so he looked to Arthur. 

The prince’s brow pinched up in worry, and he reached for Merlin's hand once more. 

“I . . . I n-need to guh . . . g-get back to-to-to-to . . . to-tih-tuh . . .” Merlin's mouth screwed up in frustration and he blinked away a few tears. “Wuh-wuh-w-woah-woah—" He clamped his mouth shut suddenly, heat rising on his cheeks. 

“Merlin, it's okay. You were injured, that's all,” Gwen explained, hoping to help ease whatever shame that he was feeling. “We just haven't found you a physician yet.”

“Wuh-wah-why not G-gaius?” Merlin questioned, expression strange and unreadable. 

Gwen closed her eyes in resignation. “Merlin . . .”

“Ah, so he pulled through after all,” Gwaine said from his bedroll on the floor, only just now waking up. 

“Hoo-hu-who’s this?” 

“That's Gwaine. He's been helping us.” 

“Weh-w-wuh-why are we—are we n-not in C-camelot?” 

“We had to flee the city, Merlin . . . You . . . Gaius, he . . .”

Merlin stared at her, eyes wide with anger and confusion. It seemed so unlike him and it frightened her. 

“Camelot isn't safe for us anymore, Merlin.” She placed her arm on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. “Don't you remember any of what happened to you?”

Merlin's face softened and he looked away. “You-you . . . found out?”

Gwen nodded. “He was torturing you, Merlin. You hadn't slept. You refused food. He tried to have you killed.”

“What?” Merlin gasped, eyes wide and frightful.

“He accused you of a crime and turned you in to Uther. They were going to have you executed.” 

“N-n-nu-no. No, I wuh-was only suh-sup-posed to be in the—in the chi-ch-chest for a d-day or two!”

“What?” Gwen cried, horrified. 

“Guh-guh-guh-Gaius said! Nnn-no, he didn't tuh-turn me in. He c-couldn't have.”

“Merlin! You let him put you in that chest?” 

Merlin clamped his mouth shut and pouted. He could feel Arthur's eyes boring into the back of his head. “It wah-wuh-wasn’t his fah-fault,” he mumbled.

“Merlin,” Gwen sighed. 

He turned to look at Arthur, his glassy eyes, full of woe and shock, loosening his tongue. “I'd been m-making life huh-hell for him. I k-k-keh-k-kept muh-messing up.”

“Merlin, Gaius shouldn't have  _ tortured  _ you just because of few mistakes!”

Merlin shook his head, tears spilling out onto his cheeks. “I-I drove him t-to dr-drink. I di-duh-didn’t know wuh-wuh-what to do.”

Arthur clenched his hands into fists and bowed his head.

“What could you have possibly done to cause him to turn to drink?” Gwen asked, expressing hopeless. 

Merlin looked at her with wide, fearful eyes and shook his head. 

Gwen grasped his hand tightly and rubbed her thumb along his knuckles. “I won't tell anyone, Merlin. And I won't be angry with you. I promise. We're just trying to make sense of all this.”

Merlin swallowed and nodded, taking a moment to ready himself. “I . . . I released a guh-goblin.”

“A what?”

“It was an-an-an accident! I duh-dih-didn’t know it wuh-wuh-wah-w-would—"

“Merlin,” Gwen said firmly, giving his hand a squeeze. “What did it do?”

“It-it t-terrorized us! Ruh-wuh-wrecked all of Guh-gaius’s things! He wuh-was furious!” 

“Alright,” Gwen said soothingly, nodding in understanding. “Okay. It's okay.”

Merlin became suddenly aware of how quickly he was breathing and how frantic he had become at the thought of what had started this all. He took a deep breath, trying to match the cool, calm tone of Gwen's voice. 

“We’ll look into that later,” she promised, sharing a confused look with Arthur. “For now, we should be sure that you are well. Are you in any pain?”

She could tell that a lie was swimming behind Merlin's eyes and was proven a moment later when he shook his head. She pressed her lips into a thin smile. “You were in that crate for quite some time, Merlin. It's okay if you need our help.” 

Merlin avoided their eyes. They were well aware of Merlin's tendency to hide his pain, but there was something different in him now. Gwen wondered what horrid things Gaius might have said or done to frighten Merlin away from help. How many times had Merlin begged for remedies only to be dealt another blow? How long had Gaius been training him to believe that enduring the pain would result in a greater mercy than asking for relief? 

Merlin made a long, low sound that eventually morphed into words. “Woo, woo, whu-what happened t-to Arthur?” 

Gwen looked up at the prince, reading his expression. They silently agreed that Merlin was, at last, sane enough to properly retain the information regarding Gaius's curse. 

“Gaius . . . He cursed him with the ears and the voice of a donkey.”

Merlin looked back at his master with great woe and guilt. 

“He tried to frame you for it, said you were a sorcerer.”

Gwen and Arthur watched Merlin's face carefully as he took in this information. He masked his fear well, but knowing of the boy's powers revealed something stirring in his expression, something of fear or guilt, or perhaps it was just the secret, screaming to be unleashed. 

They would tell Merlin that they knew. They had to. But Gwaine's presence by the fire was damning and the topic was sure to be a dangerous one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make the stuttering accurate. I sort of know which letters and words are hard for certain people, but it varies from person to person and by what causes a stutter. So I kinda had to just come up with which letters Merlin struggled with. I'm mostly having hom get stuck on Ws and Ts with other letters here and there. And of course his stammer will be worse when he is anxious or excited and less noticable when he is calm or focused. Trying not to make it seem absurd and also readable.


	4. Humorous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A healer assesses Merlin's condition.

“I sent a letter to Leon,” Gwen told Arthur as they sat by the desk, browsing through books. “I warned him of the goblin. Surely he has access to more resources to better study this creature.” 

Arthur nodded, turning a page. They had borrowed books from a nearby record's hall. Gwen approached in the guise of being a frightened widow, fearful of a beast terrorizing her village. She left with tomes on monsters and spirits. 

Now she, Arthur, and Gwaine sat around the table in search of  _ any _ information regarding  _ goblins _ . 

So far, they were coming up rather short. 

“It says here that they ‘become more vicious past the hour of midnight’.” 

Gwen frowned and leaned over to look at Gwaine's book. She sighed. “Gwaine, that says  _ gremlins.” _

“Oh.” The rogue pulled the book closer, squinting at the page and shaking his head. 

Merlin stirred from his place on the bed and Arthur left the table, going to sit by him. The prince frowned when Merlin gave him a lopsided smile. It was uneven. His left cheek was pushed up into his eye, giving him a merry crinkle, but the left side of his mouth refused to turn up all the way, only vaguely imitating a grin. 

Arthur was quick to plaster a smile on his face when he feared that Merlin might misinterpret his frown of worry to be one of dissatisfaction. He patted his friend on the knee and turned to dig some dried fruits out of his bag. 

“Yuh-y-yu-you’re lu-lousy to—to tuh-t-t-talk to,” Merlin stammered with a smirk. 

Arthur couldn't stop himself from frowning again, but luckily Gwen chose that moment to come over and check on them. 

“Merlin,” she said, voice like honey but with a crease in her brow. “We've found a decent healer. She'll be by soon to look at you.” 

Merlin suddenly appeared uncomfortable and he shifted under the covers. 

“We don't have to tell her  _ everything _ . Just enough for her to treat you.”

Merlin nodded. “Okay.”

“So, we need you to try and stay awake until she gets here. You can sleep all you want once she's gone.”

Merlin smiled. “Oh . . . kay.” 

It wasn't long before they heard a knock on their door. Arthur pulled his hood up over his ears and Gwen shuffled across the room to answer the door. A tall, stern looking woman stood in the hall, a medicine bag at her hip. She gave Gwen a curt nod before stepping into the small room. “Where is he?” 

Gwen needlessly gestured towards where Merlin laid on the bed and pulled a stool close for the healer to sit in. She nodded her thanks and leaned over Merlin, eyes narrow. 

Gwen proceeded to tell a filtered version of Merlin's tale, of how he became trapped in a tight chest and how it left him stuttering and weak. 

“You say he was in there how long?”

Merlin looked to the floor, trying not to think about how this woman spoke as though he could not understand her. 

“A week?” Gwen guessed.

The healer hummed and rubbed the back of her finger on her chin. “Has he tried walking yet?” 

“No, we've been . . .” Gwen glanced at Merlin guiltily. She'd known that he'd been trying to hide his ailments but the time for humoring him was over. “He doesn't seem to be able to move properly . . . His right side seems . . .”

“Lame,” the woman finished. “Yes, I will just have him show me what he can and cannot do. I may have an idea as to what has happened.”

Gwen bit her lip and nodded, stepping back to give her space. 

Merlin wanted very much to be anywhere in the world besides where he was in that moment. The healer spoke to him as though he were simple, using slow speech and small words. Her demeaning behavior didn't help the feeling of hopelessness as he struggled to curl his right hand into a fist and failed to bring his knee up to his chest. 

When he spoke, she sat and listened, squinting her eyes at him and nodding to herself, causing him to feel incredibly invalidated. 

“Well,” the healer said to Gwen, ignoring Merlin once again. “I believe he is suffering from apoplexy, caused by a thickened humor. You were right to use leeches, it most likely helped thin out any clots in his blood.”

Gwen looked confused and frowned at the woman. “What does that mean for him?”

The healer sighed. “Him being bent up in the box most likely did him in. It was likely that, contorted as he was, blood flow was hindered. Between that and the lack of fresh air in there . . .” She paused and shook her head. “His humors are far out of balance and his brain has taken the brunt of it all. That's why nothing works right anymore. Bits have been blocked off.”

Gwen's face only became more strained. This healer spoke of medicine much differently than Gaius had. She began to question her expertise. “So what is the remedy?”

“There's no cure, only recovery and the balancing of the humors. He may have an excess of phlegm or his blood may be contaminated with black bile. I see you've got sage. You can have him chew on some of that to draw out phlegm. I can also leave you with a poultice to draw out bad humors.” She dug through her bag, retrieving what she promised. 

“Is there really nothing more we can do?” Gwen pled, eyes shining. 

“I'm afraid not,” the healer concluded, rising to her feet. “There's not much else for it. Some people regain what they've lost and others don't.”

“Please, there must be something more.”

The healer shook her head, opening the door for herself. “Fate is the only thing you can plead to now, my friend.” With that, she closed the door and swept away, leaving the room in a thick silence.

Gwaine stood from where he had been sitting at the table. “I never believed in that humor nonsense. I've met a good deal of physicians who say it's completely hypothetical anyhow.” 

Gwen sunk into the empty chair and Arthur hung his head from where he sat in the corner. 

Merlin just sat there, staring at the wall, feeling rather numb. 

“I—I—I heard Guh-gaius mention humors wuh-woah-once or t-twice,” he said timidly, after a long stretch of silence. “Heh-He s-s-suh-said there's  _ s-some _ truh-truth to, uh — to it.” 

Gwaine shrugged and turned back to his books. 

Arthur stepped up to Gwen's side and took her hands in his, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, trying to convey that everything would be alright, that they'd figure something out. 

Gwaine was getting frustrated with his predicament. He had been ready and willing to help these travelers, to see how their story would unfold. It was comfortable. It was what Gwaine did. He traveled, got into trouble, and would band together with other sorry souls from time to time. There was always a strange sense of solidarity when he was with others who had no home, who's home was the pack on their back, who were on the run. They'd sift through their troubles and scheme together to find some money or food for the night. Vagabonds were the only people who would help a weary, lonely man to a physician. They knew what it was like to have no one to depend on so, in a way, they could depend on each other, bound by understanding. 

Strangely, Gwaine did not feel this likeness with his new friends. He kept grasping for it, trying to gain that sample of trust that lonely people often shared with others like them, but they held it out of reach. 

At first, he thought it was just because it was the three of them. They were a family and Gwaine was a stranger. But, as time went on, the number of secrets they'd kept from him grew into overwhelming numbers. They avoided answering questions and danced around the truth, telling vague tales that were so heavily filtered that they sounded more like rumors. 

And then, that boy, Merlin, woke up and it all made sense. 

Gwen had seemingly forgotten that she was keeping secrets, lost in the excitement of her friend’s recovery. She spoke of Camelot and it's king, the details of their history stepping forward at last. 

Gwaine had been slightly overwhelmed at first, yes, but it was obvious to him that they were on the run, that this Merlin fellow had been hurt gravely in the palace and they all had fled for good. 

But then Merlin had called the ass Arthur, and everything slipped into place. 

He was lodging with a bunch of stuck up nobles, wasn't he? 

He really should have guessed so sooner, what with how much good they traveled with. He chewed on his lip, kicking a stray rock off of the path. He had contemplated leaving them, but the more he thought about it, the less these people seemed to uphold the usual snobbery standards. Who would have guessed that Prince Arthur himself was as caring as he seemed with poor Merlin. 

Or maybe having the attributes of an ass were just incredibly humbling. 

Either way, Gwaine couldn't seem to get himself to leave these sorry folk behind. As much as he'd uncovered, he still didn't know much about the whole goblin business, and he had never heard word of anyone by the names of Gwen or Merlin being a part of the royal council. 

So, to blow off some steam, he’d just walk away. Every few days, he would march off into the forest and start leaving, just to test the waters, see what it felt like.

But it never felt right. By mid afternoon, he’d always end up walking back to their shabby little inn, ready and willing to help. 

He was out late this time, and was itching to turn back, but he knew he wouldn't arrive back until the middle of the night and hoped that the unfortunate timing would entice him to keep going, to put as much distance between him and those wayward lords or whatever they were. 

But then a dark horse came barrelling down the path and nearly trampled him over, rearing with a frightened whinny as he put his hands up to guard his face from the hooves kicking out in front of him. 

The horse settled as he stared back at it in shock, trotting over to the side of the road. The rider dismounted, turned to him and said, “I am so sorry.”

“Trying to make it into town before nightfall, eh?” Gwaine said to the man, not knowing what else to do.

“Are you alright?”

Gwaine let out a large huff of a breath and let his hand fall down and slap his thigh. “Nearly made my heart jump out, but other than that, yeah.”

The man let out a sigh of relief, bowing his head in exhaustion, curls bouncing down and curtaining his face. Then, he looked curiously up at Gwaine. “You know where the town is?” 

“I might do.”

“Could you lead me to it?” 

Gwaine blinked. The gods must not want him to leave his silly trio of snobs, he supposed. “Alright, but I'd like a ride back in on that horse of yours.”

The man waved his arm. “By all means.”


	5. Akin to a Goblin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party finally finds some information about goblins.

Gwaine rode behind the new stranger on his steed as he directed him back the way he came. He noted that his back protruded out a bit by his shoulder blades, as though he had a slight hunch, and he seemed to tug on the back of his robe to keep it pulled snug around his neck every now and then. 

Trying not to stare too obviously, Gwaine watched as the stranger tethered his horse outside the inn. 

“This is perfect, thank you, sir.”

“Wait, you're headed in there?” 

The man paused outside the inn and nodded. “Why? Is this your lodgings?”

“Yeah.” 

“Well then, best turn in before the sun drags us to our feet again.” 

“Right.” Gwaine truly was having a strange few weeks, and that was saying something, as he claimed to have once spent a month camping in between the toes of a cyclops with a bearded woman.

Once inside, the hooded man looked about the common area, searching until he found a familiar face. 

“Gwen,” he whispered harshly as he approached the woman who was ordering food at the bar. 

“Leon!” Gwen turned and took his hands in hers. “What's happened to you?”

“I'll explain later,” he said, taking the food off the counter to carry for Gwen. 

Gwaine was really tired as he followed the two up the stairs, listening to Gwen tell Leon about their helpful friend, Gwaine. Once they were in their room, he collapsed onto the floor, not entirely sure how he felt about anything at this point. 

Arthur left Merlin's side to greet his knight and Leon grimaced at his prince's state. They shook hands and Arthur returned to Merlin, who was sleeping soundly. 

“Has he woken?” 

Gwen nodded. “He's conscious most mornings.” She bit her lip and worried at the hems of her sleeves. “But he's not . . . He's in a bad way. He stammers and . . . He's been hiding it but he can't move his right side very well.”

Leon's eyes widened. “He should be with a physician! Sounds as though he's had a stroke!” 

Gwen nodded. “We had a healer come by, but she was . . . She wasn't Gaius. She kept talking about humours and all sorts of outdated doctoring.”

Leon sighed and looked at Merlin's frail form forlornly. “Oh!” He turned and dug into a satchel that was hidden beneath his cloak, pulling out a large, worn book. “I found this in the library."

Gwen took it into her hands and her eyes widened. “A book on goblins!” 

Leon nodded, shrugging off the rest of his packs and sitting down on a stool. “I was looking for the bestiary but the book was missing.”

Gwen hugged the book to her chest for a moment before setting it down on the desk. She then wrapped her arms around Leon in a hug. Her smile faded, however, and she looked at the knight in horror as she pulled away. “What has he done to you, Leon?”

Leon sighed and unclasped his cloak. As it fell away, it revealed gnarled horns protruding from his back. He gave a sad smile and nodded to his prince. “Gaius does seem to be a fan of mutations.”

Hand over her mouth, Gwen fought tears as she hesitantly reached out a hand to touch one. “Do they hurt?”

“Not really, but they sure are doing a number on my back!”

His back was indeed forced into an unnatural curve, forming a hunch. The horns pulled the back hem of his shirt taught, so it sat stretched and unlaced about his shoulders. 

“It's preferable to whatever disease he'd given me earlier. You think the boils were bad? I was on death's door in a week’s time.” 

Gwen enveloped Leon in another hug before offering him a spot on the floor. He laid out his bedroll and gratefully sunk down onto it, sleeping soundly on his belly as his travels caught up with him. 

As everyone else fell asleep, Gwen couldn't help but feel nostalgic. It was an odd thing to feel amidst such chaos, but between Gwaine reminding her of her wayward brother and her childhood friend, Leon, joining their party, she couldn't help the old stirring of her heart. 

Making sure that Merlin was to sleep soundly until morning, she too retired. 

The first thing they did the next morning was pour over that book. Arthur watched as Merlin continued to sleep whilst his friends scoured every letter of every page. He listened as they murmured amongst themselves, Gwaine jotting down information they thought might be important. 

Gwen's brow furrowed as she read one section aloud. “‘The only way to contain such a creature is to encase it within solid lead.’ The crate . . .” She turned and looked at the lead chest in the corner of the room. “That's where it came from.” 

Arthur hopped up and bent over the box in question, tilting it over and examining the inside for anything that might help. 

“‘They are often mischievous or malicious in nature, striving to cause mayhem and misfortune amongst humans.’” Leon sat back, brow wrinkled in deep thought as something about that description irked him.

“But how do we get rid of it?” Gwen asked frustratedly as she flipped through the pages. She paused on one that had an image of a goblin holding a jewel and wearing a golden crown. “‘Goblin's are a greedy folk. They hoard treasures such as fine linen, jewelry, and especially gold.’”

“We could lure it into a trap,” Gwaine commented, massaging his temples. 

“But it says that they can turn into sprites. There's no way we'll be able to catch it if it does that!” 

“Use a butterfly net?” Gwaine said with a shrug. 

Gwen sighed and continued searching for answers, mumbling to herself as she read. 

Arthur returned to Merlin's side, noticing that he was beginning to stir. He blinked and took time to settle into a sitting position. He smiled at Arthur before turning to see what everyone else was doing. 

“Leon?” 

The knight waved his hand, shushing Merlin with a harsh noise. 

Merlin frowned and Arthur shrugged, trying to convey that he didn't know why he was being so dismissive. 

“‘. . . mastering the art of stealth . . .’” 

“W-wuh-when did—did Leon get here?” 

Arthur drew his shoulders up as he pouted, not really being able to answer that nonverbally. 

“‘. . . signs of goblins include . . .’”

“Wha-wah-what’s wru-wrong with his b-back?” 

Arthur bit his lip. 

“‘. . . missing valuables . . .’”

“Leon?”

“Shhh!”

“ . . . bodily possession . . .”

Leon suddenly stood,slamming his hand down onto the page before Gwen could continue. “That's it!”

“What is it?” Gwen asked hopefully.

Leon recited the passage that Gwen had been skimming through. “‘Beware, for these small beasts are often experienced in the art of bodily possession, taking over the form of any creature and suppressing its consciousness in favor of its own'!” He slammed the book shut, breathing heavily. “Earlier, you said that Goblins are mischievous and malicious and  _ cause mayhem,  _ and Gwen! That's exactly what Gaius has been doing!”

“What?” 

“It's him. Gaius is the Goblin. He's been possessed.”

Gwen sunk into her seat, the news weighing heavily on her heart. She shook her head. “Gaius is the goblin.”

Leon nodded and repeated himself. “Gaius is the goblin.” 

A harsh bray came from the other side of the room and the group turned to see that Arthur was worriedly holding onto Merlin's shoulders. The boy's eyes were glazed over and he was staring at Leon in horror. 

Gwen rushed to his side as well and Arthur shifted behind Merlin to make room for her. She hummed and rubbed Merlin's arm soothingly as he gaped at her. 

“It w-whuh-wasn’t Gaius? It . . . Mmmm . . . Mmm . . . W-when d-did he . . . I don't . . .”

“We don't know yet, Merlin. We can't be sure how long it's been in control.” 

Merlin's hand came up to cover his mouth as he sobbed, tears streaming down his face and brow unevenly scrunched up in woe. 

He looked like a madman, sitting there, shaking from head to toe, eyes wide and wet, and a muffled wail gurgling out from behind his trembling fingers. 

Gwaine stood up, stepped away. Too much was happening. This was no tavern brawl, no battle of wits or riddles. This was trauma. This was raw. This was not at all what he had thought he was signing up for when he helped a couple of suspicious characters pick a damn lock. 

Gwen was crying now, too, cheeks shining as she failed to keep her composure. Arthur was gripping his hair with his hands, his own tears beginning to fall as he watched his friend break down. 

There was so much panic amongst them and Merlin was running out of breath and destroying his voice as he exhausted himself. He was lost in such an immense state of shock that, hours later, when he was finally spent, he forgot his words. Instead, he hummed low, drawn out notes before settling into a stunned silence. 

And Gwaine was still standing there, trapped in a wary stance. Gwen had eased into sleep, her head and arms resting on Merlin's legs, her face pinched up in a restless dream. 

Arthur's head was in his hands and his breath could be heard passing heavily through his nose as he struggled to ease himself into a calmer state. 

Leon was rising to his feet, crossing the room and resting a hand on Gwaine's shoulder, an inexplicably knowing look on his face. 

“I don't know all that you did, but thank you for helping them.”

Gwaine shook his head. “I had no idea . . . I . . .” He sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair. “I had just wanted some fun. I saw two odd characters with a treasure chest and just . . . I'm more used to drunken brawls and running from angry fathers. Not this.”

Leon nodded, reaching his hand around to his back and massaging the skin about the base of his bony spikes. “They do tend to land in the worst of situations. They can't help it. Tragedy just seems to stalk them.”

“He's the prince, isn't he?” 

Leon looked, finding that the trio had at last all succumbed to sleep. “Indeed he is.”

Normally, Gwaine would scoff, would spit at the man's feet and detest his privilege, but instead he spoke evenly. “I hate nobles.”

Leon gave him a sideways glance. “Do you?”

“I did. I thought I did, but . . . the way this man is, this  _ Arthur . . .  _ He treats his friends with such care, has run away with them . . . for what?”

“He may just lose the crown over this,” Leon told him. “Uther is still under the impression that Merlin has kidnapped his son, but if he learns the truth, he may very well be at war with his own father.”

“But why?” Gwaine asked, at last looking the knight directly in his eyes. “I thought that the physician's accusations were lies?”

Leon hesitated for a moment, then he turned his eyes back to the slumbering group. “Gaius is a trusted advisor.”

“But he was not hearing Gaius's words. If he realized—"

“Merlin has been accused of sorcery. There is little to be done once the king deems one evil. He is often blinded by fear and chooses to act upon the slightest of suspicions.” 

Gwaine could tell that there was something missing, some fact that the man danced around, toeing out of sight with his words. “He has the Prince on his side. And the physician, if we can restore his mind.”

“‘We’?” Leon smiled at the rugged man, a glint in his eyes. 

Gwaine sighed, he’d dug this hole for himself. “I'm afraid I'm invested now. I'll just have to see to it that your friend gets a proper recovery.” He nodded towards Merlin. “You lot are stuck with me.”

“I'm glad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I've never thought about shipping Gwaine and Leon until I wrote this scene lol.


	6. Mourn No Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin processes the new information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter because I felt that this scene stands best on its own.

“On three. One. Two. Three.”

Arthur and Gwaine both hefted Merlin up onto his feet and he stood like a newborn colt between them. His eyes were downcast and he held his breath in fear of crumbling down. 

“Breathe, Merlin,” Leon said, watching. 

“Try to straighten your legs out,” Gwen suggested.

Merlin winced as he coaxed his knees to unbend. He could feel a joint crack as he did so and was left standing stiffly, still shaking. 

“Good man,” Gwaine cheered.

“You're just going to walk to the desk and back, Merlin.”

“Take it easy.”

Merlin took a few unsteady steps forward, his left leg doing most of the work and his right stuttering along beside it. Arthur tightened his grip on his arm when he stumbled over his own feet. 

“What's wrong?” Leon asked as they slowed to a stop. 

Merlin hummed and concentrated on his footwork. His left foot was planted firmly on the floor, his knee locked. His right leg was bent slightly, toes poking at the wood beneath him. He tried to bring his leg forward but it kept swinging back behind him, as though it were on an uneven scale. 

“Take your time.”

Merlin bit his lip and tried something new. Managing to put his right foot flat on the floor, he then wiggled and shifted his left, attempting to brace himself more properly. 

Thinking that his right leg would support him, he moved to step with his left, only to sink down.

Gwaine and Arthur grunted and hoisted Merlin up before his knobby knees could crash into the floor. Pulling out the chair from the desk, Gwen made sure that Merlin was guided properly into a seated position. He let loose a breath and ran his hand through his hair when they were relinquished from his friends’ grasps.

“You alright?” Gwaine asked. 

Merlin just breathed and bent over, putting his head in his hands. The group couldn't help but notice the rigidity of the fingers on his right hand. As his left was clutching at his hair tightly, his right was merely supporting his head by the palm, fingers bent but not properly gripping onto anything.

“Merlin?” Gwen questioned. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

Merlin moaned. Gwen's voice was light and delicate and careful. He let his hands fall into his lap and looked up at them; all leaning in over him. It made him feel like a child who had fallen and scraped his knee, everyone watching with bated breath to see if he might burst into tears.

Well, maybe he  _ would _ .

“I c-can't move muh-my foot!” he shouted, sticking his legs out in front of him. 

Gwen rested her hand on his shoulder. “It's okay. We'll have to keep—”

“It's  _ not  _ ok-k-ku-kay! I can't  _ move!”  _ He shoved Gwen's hand off of him. “I c-can't tu-talk! I don't have an-an-any idea wuh-wu-wha-what's going on! And I'm an id-id-didiot for not-not-not—” His face was red and his eyes were shining. Sat there, tense on a rickety chair, he looked to be having a tantrum. He growled again, stuck on his words, his brain spinning around the same thought over and over again instead of moving on with what he had meant to say. “for not . . . for-for nuh-not-not teh-tuh . . .” He stopped, tears springing to his eyes and falling down his face. A stout cry escaped his mouth and he clamped his good hand over his lips to keep quiet. He'd meant to get angry, to let off steam. Instead he was trapped in a chair, humiliated still. 

Arthur stood back, watching the reactions of his company. He wished that someone would  _ say something _ , but he had no words to give either, even if he could speak. 

It had been two days since they had discovered the nature of the goblin, and Merlin's temper had gotten short. He got frustrated when he couldn't form a fist, flustered when he was to relieve himself or be dressed in clean clothes. He tired quickly and seemed unable to stand the vulnerability of his current state any longer. 

It reminded Arthur of a younger Merlin, hot headed and angry at the world, reaching out to sort through even the smallest of injustices. It was the Merlin who picked a fight with the king's son and got red in the face when he was beaten back into the dungeons. It was the Merlin who came charging forth with accusations against knights and noblemen without a second thought to propriety, thinking himself a hero before he had even done anything. 

Merlin was still bitter for injustice. But he was more careful now, calmer. He shouldered defeat when it came and knew to work around the law and the restrictions instead of plowing through them. 

That wasn't who was sitting slumped before him, trembling with rage and embarrassment. Merlin's strings were being pulled taught and snapping sporadically. Goodness knows what other horrors he endured whilst under the goblin's care. 

Arthur stepped forward and rested a hand on Merlin's back. He tried to shrug him off, but Arthur was on his bad side and easily held his ground. Merlin's injuries were more than physical and the damage to his soul was splitting between his brain and his emotions, scattering everything into a big, muddy mess, leaving the poor man stammering and stuttering and crying until he had nothing left. 

Gwen brought him a cup of water. Gwaine began a hushed conversation with Leon about an old man he'd known who'd had a similar fate befall him, assuring the knight that he was old and that recovery was next to impossible, but that Merlin was a young and willing looking fellow who would pull through, he was sure. 

Merlin sipped at the water quietly, void of emotion, hiccuping every other sip. Arthur kept himself there, his hand on his back, wishing he could at least say little nothings to fill the silence. 

He met Gwen's eyes and there was a question in them. It took him a moment to realize what it was. He shook his head. Merlin had had enough stress for today, and it was still early. 

Besides, he wasn't entirely sure that he was ready for it himself. 

“I can't remember,” Merlin said, very slowly. He paused and continued staring at the air in front of him. “I don't know . . .” He swallowed. “. . .  _ when  _ the gob . . . lin . . .” He frowned and his eyes shifted. “I don't know when it-it—I can't  _ tell.” _

Arthur bit his lip and gripped onto the fabric of Merlin's shirt. 

“Neither do we, Merlin,” Leon said, across the room, sat in a chair and massaging his sore back and shoulders. 

Merlin shook his head. “I know Gaius. I should have . . .” The frown vanished and his face went blank again, the only evidence of his distress in the bags under his eyes and the wetness of his skin. “Whu-what . . . What if he's dead?”

There was a stark moment of silence where nobody so much as breathed. 

“The book didn't say that the goblin's presence would harm its host,” Gwaine pointed out. 

Gwen, hope sparking in her eyes, added, “And Gaius may be an old man, but he's resilient as they come.”

“He's put up with Arthur since he was small,” Leon said.

Arthur brayed in offense.

A breath of air blew out of Merlin's mouth and everyone snapped their eyes onto him. He was covering his mouth with his hand, but they eventually made out a smile, and the sound of half smothered laughter. 

It took a long while, but they eventually made the dreaded walk back to the bed, Merlin slow and unsteady, but a little less frustrated than before. They all settled down, blowing out the candles and drawing their blankets up to their chins.

Merlin cried for hours into the night, but his friends pretended not to hear. He was mourning. Gaius may still be saved from the Goblin's curse, but they had no way of knowing, no way to be sure. 

And Merlin had more to mourn than just his mentor. He had the days in which he believed the goblin was his dear Gaius, the nights he spent trying to figure out what he'd done wrong. He had the days he'd lost, trapped in a box, the weeks he'd spend unable to move, to talk, to think as he used to. He had the comfort of going home to the kind, old physician, knowing he was safe and warm, to mourn. He feared when they would get Gaius back, for he did not know if he'd be able to see past what had happened. 

He feared that, within his own mind, Gaius was already lost. 


	7. We Do Not Eat Their Fruit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group learns more about goblins, and consequently, more about what's happened to Gaius and Merlin.

Leon had left, returned to Camelot with the promise to keep vigilant and return if he was needed. He'd been gone too long on his “hunting trip” and knew that the goblin would be suspicious if he stayed much longer.

Merlin wished he would have stayed. The more familiar faces the better. Gwaine seemed like a nice fellow but one couldn't blame him for being reluctant to trust newcomers after all that had happened. 

Feeling a bit more determined at the same time (which honestly resulted in a confusing concoction of conflicting emotions), Merlin continued to work on his walking. Each day, he'd pace to the desk and back, and in the evenings he'd flex the fingers of his right hand around a spoon and try to eat with his dominant hand again. He was still wobbly on his feet and shaky in his arm, but he was improving, if only in small increments. 

They were playing a waiting game. They were running out of books to read and people to ask and, unless they heard from Leon, they weren't very likely to find out how they should save Gaius from the goblin. 

It was almost nice, after a while. Merlin, Gwen, and Arthur living together, safe from the propriety of the city life. Gwaine was proving to be a well earned friend as well, often volunteering to do most of the work that involved strong muscles or witty talking. 

Gwen was strong enough for many tasks, but she got easily flustered when conversations went the wrong way. She made herself useful by making clothes for Merlin and shopping in the nearby market. And she found herself repairing Gwaine's hunting knife when he chipped it on a boulder whilst skinning fish that he'd caught.

Arthur still couldn't do much. He was as fit as he ever was, but keeping his hood up over his ears was a difficult balancing act. He'd gone with Gwaine on a few of his hunting endeavors, but he found his ears springing up from under the woolen fabric from time to time whenever he moved too quickly or leaned back too far. Chatting up the locals wasn't exactly something he could do either, so he often preferred to stay hidden inside their small room to save himself from the paranoia of someone spotting his unique abnormality. 

Merlin was trying. He desperately wanted some fresh air, but he knew he couldn't make it very far before he'd need to lay down, and having Gwaine carry him around was rather undignified. Gwen pointed out that perhaps it was better for him to stay put, as it might rouse suspicion if they suddenly seemed to have one more person in their party than when they'd arrived. Instead they moved the bed to the window and propped it open to let the inward breeze act as a substitute for the open air.

It was a tiring way to live, but it was nice. It was simple. And Arthur vaguely wondered if things might be better if they just stayed this way. 

Leon rolled his shoulders. The goblin had insisted that he treat his spines once he'd returned to Camelot and he was relieved to find that they were indeed shrinking. There were still small little points in his back, but they almost looked like moles now that they were so small, and the physician had assured him that there wouldn't be so much as a scar within the week.

Which would have been a relief if he didn't suspect that he'd be struck with some other sort of ailment the moment his skin was smooth. 

A hand grabbed at his arm, startling him out of his thoughts, and he found himself spinning round and coming to a stuttering halt in front of the lady Morgana. She looked up at him, her pale, green eyes searching his face. 

“My lady,” he managed to say, wondering why it was that the king's ward had pulled him into one of the servants’ halls. 

“You've seen them, haven't you?” she questioned him. She seemed sure, but awaited an answer nonetheless. 

“I don't know what . . .”

“Arthur,” she sneered, looking insulted. “Gwen. Merlin. You went to see them.”

Leon wanted to lie, wanted to protect his friends’ secret, but he didn't seem to know how to speak anything but the truth to Morgana. So instead, he stayed silent. 

“Merlin didn't kidnap them,” she stated, still searching the knight's eyes for something. “He wouldn't.” She seemed surprised by her own words as she said them, as if before uttering them, she had believed that he might have. “But he does have magic, doesn't he?”

“No,” Leon said. He wasn't sure. He suspected that it was true, that Merlin possessed some power, that the accusations that the goblin had made, though false, leaned heavily on reality. 

Morgana frowned and thought for a moment, never taking her eyes off of him. “He does,” she corrected, nodding to him as though he'd just admitted it. “And yet Arthur helps him?”

Leon was unsure what he was meant to say. He too grew up in a land that detested magic of all kinds, but as much as he didn't trust sorcery, he trusted Arthur. If the prince was willing to go to such great lengths to help Merlin, to go so far as to risk his inheritance, he must be as loyal as he seems. 

“Arthur trusts Merlin,” he told her. “I don't think there's much in this world that could change that . . . my lady.” 

“But why?” Morgana asked, but her voice had changed. She seemed more upset, the anger leaving her. “Why is it that Merlin is the exception.”

They stood there in silence for some time, Leon thinking about his answer. The more he thought, the more he believed that it might just be impossible to put their relationship into words. “I'm not sure,” he said eventually, “that he is the exception. I think that perhaps Merlin may be a  _ realization  _ more than anything.”

Again, Morgana stared into him, searching, pleading for something more. 

“And I don't think it's just Arthur who's begun to see things in a different light.”

Morgana looked  _ different  _ all of a sudden. Some tension left her shoulders and she almost looked younger, as though the past few years of hardship had been swept away and her nightmares had turned into dreams. Then, she nodded her head once, and stood up straight. “I want to help.”

“My lady, I don't—”

“I want to help,” she said again. “Whatever I can do.”

Leon offered her a tired smile. Arthur and the others weren't here to consult, but they knew as well as he did that they'd need all the help that they could get. As wary as he was to spread the secret of their escape, Morgana had helped the odd group in their antics in the past and had proven herself to be a cunning opponent in all regards. He had no doubt that it would do them good to have her on their side. 

So he nodded and checked the corridor for passersby. “There's a few things you need to know first.”

Gwaine swung his arms from side to side as he merrily made his way in through the door, singing a bar tune. Arthur rolled his eyes and gave Merlin a look, hoping to share the exasperation. Merlin gave him a tight lipped smile in return, grimacing at how intoxicated Gwaine had become. 

“Oh my friends!” Gwaine sung, forgetting the words to his song. “I have wonderful news.”

The sun had not even set yet and Gwaine was tripping himself up on the rug, grabbing at the nearest bed post to steady himself. 

“What is it, Gwaine,” Gwen asked, humoring him without looking up from her work. 

“I know how to defeat our little friend.”

Everyone stopped and looked up at him, skeptically. The room was silent for a long moment before Gwaine let out a drunken laugh. “Fruit,” he hiccuped.

“What?” Gwen asked, cocking an eyebrow. 

“I was just chatting with my buddy down in the pub and  _ he  _ said that them goblin folk grow fruit for potions; potions and poisons and all sorts of other things.” He waved his arm in the air as though he were brushing away the unimportant details. “Says it's like death for them to eat it themselves.”

Gwen and Arthur were on their feet, stepping nearer with excitement buzzing behind their eyes.

“Did he say where we could find this fruit, Gwaine? How it works?”

Gwaine groped for the back of a chair and tugged it towards him, clumsily sitting down facing the wrong way with his arms folded over the back of it. “Nah, he's not heard of anyone but goblins getting their hands on it. But if this Gary fellow has been making remedies for the whole castle that cause maladies of the most bizarre nature, he's bound to have some growing someplace.”

Gwen turned to Arthur, his own expression mirroring her's, with wide eyes and a manic look. “If we can find that fruit, we'll have at least some way of fighting the goblin.” She gasped and spun around, finding Merlin sitting up in bed. “Merlin, do you remember Gaius growing any fruits or where he kept any unusual plants for his potions?”

Merlin looked up at her, but his eyes were glossy and distant. He seemed stunned, shocked, and couldn't quite grasp at the words he was looking for.

“Merlin?”

“I . . .” He stopped and rubbed at his eyes with his good hand. He looked down as he fiddled with his sheets. “G-gaius, he . . . I can't . . .”

Everyone slowly settled back down, taking their seats and leaning intently in. Merlin's face scrunched up in confusion and he shook his head as if trying to dispel his memories from the recesses of his brain. 

“He made me jam . . .” 

_ Merlin crept out of his room, peering around the door. Gaius was there, ogling at his case of gold. Suspicion rose up in him, stirred inside his chest, but it was faint and confusing. He couldn't quite line his reasoning up with his feelings.  _

_ “What are you doing?” he asked quietly, stepping down into the main room. An odd sense of dejavu washed over him, as though he'd confronted his mentor on this before.  _

_ And Gaius looked guilty for a moment, eyes flickering with fear before being schooled into a carefree expression. “Merlin! How are you feeling?”  _

_ He stopped at the bottom of the steps and surveyed himself. His leg was still sore from when Gaius had accidentally tripped him up with a stool and the back of his head still smarted from the thwacks he'd been receiving for messing up so damn much. But other than that, he just felt hungry. Gaius had locked him away for the better part of the week because he'd been consistently vomiting.  _

_ “Fine,” he replied, voice small and guilt ridden. He'd been such a disappointment to the physician lately, and now he'd gone and gotten sick, leaving Gaius short a pair of hands to help him with all of the diseases that had been ripping through Camelot lately.  _

_ “That is good to hear as I have a good deal of work for you to do.” Gaius nodded and closed his chest, the click of it shutting brought Merlin's attention back to it, and the guilt ebbed away, replaced by suspicion.  _

_ “What's in there?” he questioned, watching as Gaius tucked the chest away into a barrel.  _

_ “What?” Gaius asked, offended, causing the guilt and shame to creep back into Merlin's heart. “Am I not allowed to have any privacy? You keep your nose to yourself, boy! And out of other people's business!”  _

_ Merlin hung his head and mumbled an apology. Gaius raised an eyebrow and studied him, biting his lips in thought. Then, he seemed to make a decision. _

_ “Sit down, my boy. I'll make you some toast.” _

_ Merlin did as he was told, feeling rightly ashamed of himself for judging Gaius so harshly when the old man gave him a home and made him meals. Even now, after he was wrought with unwarranted suspicion, he was toasting him bread to serve with cheese and berries, as well as a fine jam that Merlin was becoming increasingly fond of. _

_ Gaius mumbled to himself as he worked, uncorking the jar of sweet, greenish blue paste and lathering it onto some warm, crisp toast. Merlin minded his business, the temptation to eavesdrop squashed by the fear of being reprimanded for intruding once more.  _

_ Plate sliding onto the table in front of him, Merlin smiled up at Gaius, fighting the urge to glance at the barrel where the chest was hidden. The thought occurred to him that he might be able to sneak a glance at what was inside if he waited until the old man was asleep, but he swallowed it down, disappointed in his own snooping. The suspicion was festering inside of him as he picked at the cheese, and he felt treacherous for having such thoughts. _

_ Because it was so delectable and biting sweet on his tongue, Merlin saved the toast with jam for last, eating it slowly and savoring the rich, unique flavor. He wondered vaguely what fruit it was made of, but quickly realized that it didn't matter. No one would be able to make it as good as Gaius did. _

_ Dear, sweet, caring Gaius. He was the closest thing that he had to a father. How could he have thought him to be keeping secrets? It was absurd. Gaius loved him so dearly. He would never hurt Merlin unless he deserved it.  _

_ Gaius appeared in his vision and he suddenly remembered that he was sat in the physician's chambers and not lying serenely on some cloud in the peaceful sky. Merlin smiled shyly back at him, knowing that the gentle man could truly do no wrong.  _

_ “You're late for serving Arthur,” Gaius said softly. “Go, let the prince know you haven't gone missing.”  _

_ Merlin stood and he felt good. He felt whole. His leg no longer ached and his head was clear and focused on the task ahead. Gaius pat him on the back as he strode towards the door.  _

_ Merlin paused and looked back at him with a sad, small smile. “I'm sorry, Gaius,” he said.  _

_ Gaius shook his head and waved him off. “For what? Go, do your work. And pick up a tankard of ale on your way home. We shall drink together tonight.”  _

_ Merlin beamed and turned away. Gaius had been becoming a rather violent drunk, but surely if they drank in merriment all would be well. He felt much better knowing that Gaius would be drinking with him as company instead of slugging off to the tavern again.  _

_ He had a sickeningly good feeling about the day ahead.  _

Gwen, Arthur, and Gwaine all sat silently as Merlin explained what had happened, how Gaius—or rather the goblin—had given him sweet treats whenever he had had any suspicions. A peculiar sense of relief washed over Merlin, for he was not as blind and dumb as the situation had made him seem. But he was also overwhelmed with resurfacing fear, wary of what else the goblin could do with what grew in its garden. 

“I suppose I'll write up a letter to send Leon,” Gwen said, tentatively breaking the silence. “See if he can find out where the fruit is being grown.”

Arthur opened his mouth to comment, forgetting for a moment that he couldn't speak, then frustratedly shut it. He pushed himself up out of his chair and began pacing, his left ear twitching irritably. 

Gwen pressed her mouth into a thin line as she watched him fester. Gwaine pat Merlin's knees before sliding down off his chair and into his bedroll. Merlin just laid there, closing his eyes and willing himself to fall asleep so that he might wake up in the morning to reveal this all had been a bad dream. 


	8. A Mule's Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is tired of waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is quite possibly my favorite chapter.

_ “You idiot!” _

_ Merlin flinched back and stumbled away from the mess he'd made, hands held out in surrender. “I'm sorry! Gaius, I'm sorry! I'll-I'll clean it up!”  _

_ He bent down to start scooping the broken glass into his cupped palm, not daring to waste time fetching a broom or a rag. But Gaius's foot came down on Merlin's back and he fell forward, hands colliding hard with the ground, sending shards of broken glass into his tender skin.  _

_ He winced and sat up, holding his arms out to keep his raw cuts from touching anything. He looked up and Gaius was staring angrily down at him.  _

_ “Don't you ever watch what you're doing, you buffoon? Clean this up! Quickly!” He threw a rag at Merlin and nudged the broken glass around with the tip of his boot. “Now what? Am I meant to stay up all night working to make another potion?” _

_ Merlin shook his head, swallowing a lump in his throat as he collected the shards into the rag, trying hard to ignore the pieces that were stuck in his hands. “No, Gaius. I'll help you get it done. I'll—” _

_ “You will do no such thing!” Gaius hollered. “That remedy was for the Lady Enid's eyes! It is an extremely delicate potion and requires expertise far beyond what the likes of you are capable of!”  _

_ “I'm sorry. I can try and—” _

_ “You have done enough meddling, boy!” Gaius turned back to his work bench, leaving Merlin to clean. “If she does not receive her potion before she must make a public appearance, her shame will be on your shoulders, you insolent fool!” _

_ Merlin nodded and muttered his understanding, taking the bundled up remains of the vial and disposing of them. His eyes stung as he held his hand over the container for the broken glass and began to pick at his hand, carefully trying to dig the tiny bits of glass out of his flesh.  _

_ Before he so much as thought about treating his wounds, he fetched another towel and sopped up the rest of the mess. He watched Gaius's back as he worked, trying to make as little noise as possible. Once the mess was clear and his hands were clean and wrapped, he tiptoed up to his room and changed into his nightly garments.  _

_ He crawled into bed, as usual, tugging the blankets up to his chest. Gaius's disappointment lingered in the air and singed his lungs with every breath as he tried desperately not to cry, lest he make too much noise and distract Gaius from his duties—duties that would already be complete if it weren't for Merlin. _

_ A sudden surge of emotion coming over him, he brought his hands up and grasped at his hair, pulling until it made his scalp sting and his wounded hands prickle with pain. He breathed deep and fast to keep up with the hurt swirling in his heart and did not relent until he was able to compose himself and fall into a silent sleep.  _

All they could do whilst they awaited for Leon to receive their letter, was wait and continue to help Merlin on his journey to recovery. He was awake for more hours of the day now, walking himself to the jerry or the seat by the fire. In all realness, he was a bit of a mess, always a hair's breadth away from crumpling down onto his knees and crying out his woes. But the slow progress he was making, regaining the ability to move about on his own, was helping him keep composure. He had taken back some of the dignity he had lost over the weeks and was able to sit back, close his eyes, and take a few deep breaths to keep his fraying nerves from coming undone. 

Arthur on the other hand, seemed to have been overcome by a sour case of cabin fever. He rarely stopped pacing, always looking as if he wanted to scream. It worried Merlin a great deal, but the fact that Gwen did not seem very eager to help Arthur through his issues scared him into ignorance. The prince would calm down though, whenever he was alone with Merlin in the room, but the guilt and the concern in his eyes drove Merlin even more mad than the pacing. Whenever he met Arthur's eyes he found himself very soon after sitting back, closing his eyes, and taking a few deep breaths. 

It was then that he would think about what was driving the prince to act so irritated. Obviously, there was the situation at hand; the knightly man being cooped up in a small room with a sick patient, the aching worry he had for Merlin and for Gaius. Then there was the aspect of his inheritance. Merlin wasn't completely oblivious. He had overheard the parts of his and Gwen's conversations that they were keeping from him. If the king found out that he had rescued Merlin, the man convicted by the loyal and proud physician, surely the consequences could be severe if they did not provide proper evidence on their own behalf. 

Merlin never did anything with these thoughts, never asked any questions. He knew that Gwen would be helping Arthur through his turmoil if it was something that he was willing to share, and it wasn't as if Merlin could draw the truth out of him when he couldn't even speak. Though whatever it was, whatever dark thoughts were making Arthur stir, they seemed to all come to a head when Merlin fell. 

He was sick of not being able to talk, of keeping his hood up over his ears when he went out. Most importantly however, he was sick of keeping Merlin's secret.

How did his servant keep it so well for  _ years  _ when the prince had known for only a few weeks and it was already driving him to the brink of insanity? He supposed that, under different circumstances, it would have been easier to ignore, but not now. It would have been easier if they were in Camelot and Merlin was running off to do magic tricks or mumbling spells under his breath to light the prince's fire. But here, so far away from home, with Merlin struggling to stand and fighting his way through every sentence he spoke, it was torture. 

He had no way of knowing if Merlin had the power to heal himself. What if all this time could have been spent brewing up potions and conducting rituals to get Merlin back to perfect health? Was there a simple spell that could have Merlin agile on his feet and cunning with his words within seconds? What right did they have to stop Merlin from giving himself some miraculous antidote? 

Watching him sit and rest and resign himself to this fate was tearing at Arthur's heartstrings. He became close to tears whenever Merlin climbed into bed at an agonizingly slow pace, despite there being every possibility that all of this could be over if the lad just uttered a few foreign words. 

One day, Merlin stood up from the chair by the fire, eyes half lidded and legs wobbling beneath him. It was late, later than he usually retired because he had dozed off in his seat. Arthur watched him, something ominous stirring in his chest, as he took a few unsteady steps forward. He waited for Merlin to get control of himself, to remember to favor his right leg, but he didn't. He planted his foot on the ground and let go of the chair. For a moment, Arthur thought that he was fine, that Merlin would shake himself awake right then and there and make his way back to the bed without incident. But Merlin took another step with his left leg, one far too wide and far too confident, and his right ankle refused to bend as it should to follow, causing him to stumble and wobble until he gracelessly fell to the floor, his chin hitting  _ hard _ and cutting off his stout yelp. 

Everyone was on their feet in an instant. Even Gwaine, who was slumbering in his bedroll, was startled awake and into action. 

Arthur lifted Merlin up off the ground, briskly laying him down in the bed. When he took a step back, he froze in horror. Merlin's mouth was hanging open, blood  _ seeping  _ from his mouth in gruesome quantities. 

Gwen shoved the prince aside, bringing a scrap of cloth up to Merlin's face. Merlin took it from her, expression pinched with pain, and held it up to his lips. He puckered and spit and drew the cloth away, a thin, fleshy strip of  _ something  _ sitting in the middle, surrounded by blood.

Arthur brayed, he let out a horrific screech at the sight, wondering what internal  _ organ  _ Merlin had coughed up. He pulled at his hair as he berated himself for not aiding Merlin to the bed when he  _ knew  _ in his gut that something was going to go wrong this time. 

Gwaine clamped his hands on his shoulder and tugged him away from the bed, fighting against the prince's fright. Arthur wriggled in his hold, his heart pounding in his ears, to help.  _ Somehow _ , he needed to help!

“Woah, listen mate,” Gwaine cut through the mayhem. “Hey there, look! Look! It's not too bad, he's just bitten his tongue, alright?”

Arthur stopped braying, had barely realized that he had been doing so in his desperation, and looked at Gwaine wide eyed and confused. 

“Yeah,” Gwaine assured with a nod. “See? It's just a small bit of his tongue. Not even big enough to make a difference, really. It'll scab over and heal nice and neat, huh? Ya know, I heard once that wounds in the mouth heal more quickly than most do, too.” 

Arthur regained control of his breathing and looked over Gwaine's shoulder at the mess. There was so much  _ blood.  _ Usually when he saw blood gushing from one's mouth in this way, it was from a punctured lung or some other internal tragedy that was beyond fixing. And Merlin had fallen face first into the floor with no sense of mind to catch himself with his arms. 

Gwen had another rag and was pressing it into Merlin's mouth, applying pressure as best she could and telling Merlin to keep it in place. He was shaking, sweating, and kept his eyes tightly shut. He looked like a dying man with so much blood spilling down his front. 

“The blood flow has already begun to slow,” Gwen assured over her shoulder. “We can ask for the healer again, but I don't think the piece he bit off is big enough to bother with stitches.” 

“I'll leave in the morning,” Gwaine said, nodding along to Gwen's words. 

A muffled sound came from Merlin on the bed. He was obviously trying to form words around the wad of cloth in his mouth, but between the obstruction and the whimper that interrupted him, no one could tell what he'd tried to say. 

“Don't speak, Merlin,” Gwen instructed. “Try not to move your tongue if you can help it, alright? And don't move that rag.”

Merlin shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut and looking incredibly ill. His body convulsed, much like a cat's before a hairball, and he quickly turned, nearly headbutting Gwen in the face, and leaned over the bed. The cloth flew out of his mouth, splatting onto the floor with a disgusting  _ squelch.  _ Soon followed a stream of vomit and bile, and it was  _ red.  _ Red and violent and  _ thin.  _ Then Merlin gasped and held his mouth open, breathing heavy and wet. 

Arthur didn't shout this time, and he tried to restrain himself, but his heart was racing and he took an involuntary step forwards. Gwaine stepped in front of him and helped Gwen to ease Merlin back into a seated position. 

“He's just swallowed a good deal of blood, is all,” Gwaine muttered. “That'd probably make even me sick too.”

Arthur shook his head and rubbed the sweat from his eyes before coming forward and stealing the soiled blankets off the bed and throwing them on top of the mess on the floor. 

Merlin shivered and doubled over, panting and clutching his stomach. Gwen thrust a cup of water and one her own stockings into Merlin's lap, instructing him to catch the dribble of blood and to drink and gargle and spit if he had to. 

He did so, and he stuffed Gwen's stocking into his mouth because all of the rags they had were already soiled. He leaned back but kept his head bowed and closed his eyes more gently, breathing evenly through his nose. 

They all stayed awake, watching as Merlin just sat there and tried not to be sick again. His breath would hitch every now and then, sometimes followed by a whine or a moan, but the bleeding stopped by morning and Gwaine had left the moment there was light enough to see. 

The healer came waddling in around noon with a sigh, setting down her bag and making her way to the bed. Gwaine having explained the situation to her on the way, she merely tutted and commented on how Merlin had appeared to be recovering well. 

She grabbed his jaw and pinched, forcing his mouth open and tearing the stockings away. Merlin winced as it tugged on his sore tongue, looking up at the physician with watering eyes. She tilted his head from side to side, pursing her lips and squinting at him. 

“Have him avoid warm foods,” she said. “Apply pressure for a few more hours at least and do try to use clean bandages instead of your socks.” She glanced over at Gwen condescendingly and tossed her stockings onto the pile on the floor. “I can give you some paste to help speed up the healing but other than that you ought to just have him keep quiet until it's healed. There's no use trying to reattach that sliver anyhow. He'll be fine.”

Arthur stared daggers into the back of the woman's head. 

“He'll talk fine?” 

“Yeah sure. If not now then in a few days.” She handed a jar over to Gwen as well a few bandages. “It's not likely it'll get infected. Keep him from biting it again. These people will gnaw on their lips in their sleep.”

Merlin frowned at her, offended and bewildered by her demeanor towards her patients. Gaius may not have been treating him well lately but he could still remember how to conduct a  _ proper  _ consultation as a physician. This  _ healer  _ treated him like a sick dog instead of a man. 

“Thank you,” Gwen said, voice void of sincerity. 

“Keep an eye on that one,” she said as she collected her things and made way towards the door. “I'm surprised you've kept him around; seems more trouble than he's worth.”

The door slammed closed and Arthur's ears began ringing in the silence that she left behind. He stood, stared at the door, and huffed a few times, trying and failing to get his breathing under control. But he had had enough. Merlin was still weak and he and his friends were still either lost or trapped under the thumb of a possessed physician. Rage filled him up and he brayed, red in the face and pouting spectacularly. He turned away from the door, eyes big and angry. Merlin thought he looked much like he did before a battle, honing in on a bandit or evildoer as he marched into the fray. It frightened him slightly as he seemed to find his target, marching across the room and digging through one of their bags. He withdrew a book, stalked to where Gwen was sitting and slammed it down on the desk, causing the floor to shake.

“Arthur—”

He brayed, somehow looking fierce despite the absurd noises spewing out if his mouth. 

“Arthur, I don't think that we should be doing this now!”

He brayed again, louder, sounding like a mule in the midst of a valiant tussle. Arthur smacked the cover of the book, chest heaving as he stared Gwen down. 

“Arthur, he can't even—”

Arthur tore the book off the table and Gwen was too slow to snatch it from his grasp. She shouted at him apprehensively, eyes wide with panic. But Arthur just let out a harsh mewl, almost a growl, as he stomped over to Merlin's bed. 

Merlin looked up at him, shocked and wary. Gwen was pulling on the prince's shoulder, pleading, but he threw the book into Merlin's lap regardless. 

Gwen sagged and covered her mouth with her hands, watching as Merlin began to recognize the tome before him. 

It was his book of magic. 

Arthur stood there, waiting, hoping that Merlin would just  _ tell him  _ already, but Merlin just stayed there, stock stiff and ogling the book. 

He brayed again, but it was broken this time, tired, and he dropped to his knees by Merlin's side.

But Merlin didn't hear him. It were as if he had fallen away, sunk into the bed and through the floor, drifting slowly down through some dark space and watching himself from increasing longer distances. Noises were muffled, his rabbiting heart a constant sound filling his head. His arms and legs went numb, the feeling of pins and needles crawling up his body until it consumed every part of him. 

In the corner of his eye, he saw flames. They grew, inching closer and closer to where he sat on the bed, his friends talking to and touching him. He couldn't understand any of it. The words never had meaning, the hands he never felt, and the fire, though always moving closer, never reached him; neither here where he floated nor there on the bed, both positions just as prone and vulnerable as the other.

Suddenly, he snapped out of it. The fire was crackling loudly, hurting his ears. Gwen was sewing, her eyes glistening. Gwaine was sitting at the desk, his back to him. Arthur was sitting very close, his hand brought up to pinch the bridge of his nose, creasing his forehead into guilty, distressed ripples. 

The heat of the fire made his face flush red and things very quickly became  _ too hot _ and he kicked off his covers. Arthur looked up, half asleep, but did not jump for joy at Merlin rousing. He just looked at him. Sad. 

His tongue itched. Merlin ran it along the backs of his teeth to try and scratch it, but that felt worse. The fabric of his sheets had pulled beneath him and he shifted, trying to find a comfortable position.

Arthur frowned at him, got up from where he was sitting, and left. Merlin stared at the door and could feel Gwen and Gwaine staring at him. He wished they would stop. Their gazes  _ burned.  _

Arthur returned a long while later, looking frustrated but with a large washbasin. He dragged it to an open space by the fire and then marched right back out the door. Gwaine stood and followed him. They rebounded with buckets filled to the brim with water and poured them into the basin as Gwen crafted Merlin another pair of trousers. 

When the water was warm and ready, Arthur stood there with a towel, waiting. He did not motion for Merlin to stand or tell him that the bath was for him, but he looked at Merlin. He looked at him and hoped that he would understand. 

Gwen gave Arthur a look that the prince refused to meet.  _ I told you he was in no fit state to deal with this.  _ But she turned her eyes away and busied herself with arranging the books on the desk. Gwaine moved to help her and they talked in hushed voices as Merlin finally swung his feet off the bed. 

Merlin was petrified. He slowly stood, his eyes never looking away from Arthur but never meeting his gaze either. Arthur held out a hand and Merlin, afraid of falling, afraid of taking his hand, afraid of being pulled into him, set his fingers lightly over his palm. He used Arthur's hand for balance but did not grasp it, did not let him guide him fully. Arthur acknowledged this, nodding his head, and did not close his hand into a fist about Merlin's wrist like he had wanted to. Instead, he waited until Merlin was standing between him and the fire and began unlacing his tunic. 

It was strange. Arthur was fairly certain that he had never undressed anyone before, and he felt confident assuming that no one had ever helped Merlin with his clothes since he had his mother dressing him. He tried to put himself in Merlin's shoes, readying a prince for a bath. He imagined that he was a servant, humble and dirty. Perhaps he was mute, not because he had the voice of a mule, but because he'd not learned to speak and the noble Merlin had taken him in as his page.  _ Yes that is something that Merlin would have done,  _ Arthur thought. He never felt that anyone was below respect, always finding worth in both the smallest, weakest creatures as well as the most monstrous and frightening of beasts. 

He imagined that his hands were worn and his nails splintered, not because he was a knight, but because he slaved after his job, scrubbing floors and polishing the tiny buttons on his prince's vest. He imagined that Merlin's legs shook, not because he was recovering from a tragedy, but because he'd spent the morning running drills on the training field. It was odd, serving Merlin. And Arthur had no doubt that Merlin felt out of place as well as he stepped out of his clothes and into the water basin.

Arthur pulled forward a stool and sat behind him, withdrawing a bar of soap. He leaned forward and dipped his hand into the water, brushing Merlin's shoulder with his arm. 

“I'm sorry,” Merlin slurred, muscles tense and voice hushed. 

Arthur paused, withdrew his hands and pulled up his sleeves with his thumbs. He lathered his hands and began massaging the soap into Merlin's skin despite the way he was hunched over himself. As he worked, he felt his cheeks heat up and the blush spread to his ears. His face got hotter and hotter as he moved to thread his fingers through Merlin thick and grimy hair, so much so that the warmth spread down to his chest, making him feel feverish. 

He stopped again, dropping the soap into the tub and bringing his damp hand to feel his forehead. The movement made him dizzy and he gripped at the stool until he blinked away the lightheadedness. 

Merlin didn't seem surprised that Arthur had stopped. In fact, his shoulders sagged and he tilted his head to the side so that the prince might see his lashes batting beyond his cheekbones. “You-you weren't angry wih-with Gwen.” 

“Guh,” Arthur replied, throat feeling thick, his voice stuck somewhere on the way to his tongue. A chill ran up his spine, whisking away the heat as it rippled through him. He cleared his throat. “No,” he agreed at last.

“I . . . I wanted to to-tuh-tell you mys-self, but . . .” His voice caught in his throat, as if he'd gifted his words to Arthur. He sucked in a wet breath, excess spit building up in his mouth. 

“You shouldn't talk.” Arthur's own voice was worn. It sounded deeper than it usually did, softer, as though he wasn't sure if he was able to project. Merlin wondered if it had always sounded this way, and he had just forgotten what his master's words sounded like. 

He closed his eyes and let his chin rest against his knee. Arthur resumed kneading his hair, the soap forgotten by Merlin's toes. 

“You're angry wi-ith me.” Merlin spoke slowly, to try and keep from irritating his tongue as well as stuttering.

Arthur didn't answer right away. He just kept lathering Merlin's scalp. “Of course I am. I'm furious,” he said calmly. “But I don't think that . . . Now's not the time for shouting. You might faint.”

Merlin laughed, sending ripples through the water. Then he sniffled and breathed long and steady. “I'm tougher than I lu-look.”

Arthur scoffed. “I know.” 

They fell into silence once more. Gwen began to put away her things and Gwaine scuffed his boots on the floor while he picked at his nails. 

Merlin's heart never did cease it's pumping whilst he leaned back in the bath. He relaxed as the water grew timid and felt safe under Arthur's oddly diligent fingers, but the hurt and the fear never fully left. It just simmered in soap scum gathering at the bottom of the basin, lingered in the dirt finding its way under Arthur's nails, was resting in the space between them.


	9. Who Knows Upon What Soil They Fed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana and Leon learn of the Goblin Fruit.

“Alright, up you get.” 

Merlin hummed and opened his eyes. He'd fallen asleep, his cheek pressed up against the rim of the tub. A pink mark was etched across his face when he lifted his head. 

“It's getting late.”

Merlin looked around, noting the colorful sunset sky outside the window and the vibrancy of the fire compared to the dark room. Someone had added more warm water to his bath whilst he was sleeping.

“You're getting pruney,” Arthur warned, holding out a towel. 

Merlin groaned and pulled himself up and out of the tub. He stepped into the towel, pinching it closed with his good hand. Arthur guided him to the bed and handed him a bundle of clothes. Merlin made a funny noise at the sight of them. 

“What? D'you need help?”

“Mmmmm no,” Merlin mumbled, only half awake as he fumbled for his night clothes. 

“Here.”

Arthur bent down and began helping Merlin into the soft pair of pants that Gwen had made out of an old blanket. As he did so, a wave of unease came over Merlin, the memory of what Arthur  _ knew  _ rising. 

“Why did you hu-help me?”

“What?” Arthur paused, looked up into Merlin's eyes, and frowned.

But Merlin's eyes were barely open, and his cheeks were pink. “You didn't hah-have to do anything. C-could have left mm-me in the — in the box.”

“Merlin!”

“Woo-wuh-w-would have b-been ee-easier for you that way.”

“Merlin, you know—”

“Uther wu-would have execu-coo-cuted me. Nnnnno-oh guilt on your shoulders.” 

Arthur tugged Merlin's shirt down over his shoulders aggressively, causing him to wince. Merlin looked up into fiery eyes and relished in the hurt he felt. He deserved it. 

“That's enough,” Arthur ground out. He tore his hands away from Merlin. “You're hurt. I made my decision back in Camelot. I'm not letting you die.”

“But—”

“No, Merlin. I don't know if you're looking for pity or if—”

“I'm not!”

“ _ Or  _ if you really just don't know how to let people help you. But either way, this needs to stop. Enough with the . . . the self deprecating nonsense. You're not forcing us to help you. I can march you back to the city gates in chains myself if I wanted to, but I  _ don't. _ ”

Merlin began to cry again, wiping his nose on the fabric of his shoulder. “I'm sorry, I d-don't deh-deserve—”

“ _ I've _ decided that you  _ do _ deserve this. That's  _ my  _ decision to make. We have a lot to talk about. I have no doubt that there's a lot you have to be sorry for, but what's done is done.” Arthur shook his head and turned to sit on the bed beside his friend. “And Merlin.”

Merlin looked up at him, eyes red and nose puffy. 

“If there's one thing that I know about you, it's that you're  _ good _ . We had to act fast to get you away from that goblin. I  _ knew  _ in that moment that you were worth saving, worth going against the king for. Don't let all of the small evils that stir in your brain make you think that I was wrong.”

Merlin nodded, breathlessly thanking his prince for all of the mercy and wisdom he'd bestowed upon him. 

“Just, go to sleep, Merlin,” Arthur said. It felt good to talk, to be able to say what he wanted. He smiled slightly as he watched Merlin crawl under the blankets; new, clean ones that had been warming by the hearth. 

He wondered if the goblin had trained him to think this way, to underestimate his worth and his capability to be forgiven. He was sure the goblin showed no forgiveness, and made Merlin feel unworthy when it feigned it. 

The goblin had not only hurt Merlin, but it taught Merlin to hurt others by hurting himself. It taught him that guilt was his strongest emotion and that pity was praise. In such a short amount of time, Merlin, who once was one of the most emotionally intelligent people that Arthur had ever known, was warped into a man who was afraid to feel  _ good _ . 

_ Merlin scuffled in, head bowed and mouth shut.  _

_ “You're late.” _

_ “Sorry, I know, I was just . . . busy.” _

_ “Not busy doing your job, though.” _

_ “No.” _

_ Arthur turned around, studied Merlin, and cocked an eyebrow. “Were you running an errand for Gaius?”  _

_ Merlin shook his head, hiding his face by turning to the side. “No, it was nothing. I . . .” _

_ He didn't finish, just swallowed and moved to lay out Arthur's clothes.  _

_ The prince grabbed his wrist, stilling him. “Look at me, Merlin.” _

_ Slowly, ever so slowly, Merlin raised it head, brandishing a fresh black eye and a swollen cheek.  _

_ “What happened?” Arthur wasn't surprised. Merlin had been acting subdued and he knew that Gaius and he weren't getting along recently.  _

_ “Nothing.” _

_ “Merlin.” _

_ “Nothing. I fell. Hit my head on Gaius's workbench on the way down.” He offered a ghastly smile as he gestured to his shiner, trying to make light of his clumsiness. Besides, it wasn't even a lie. He had tripped. He'd spilt some important ingredients too, prompting the physician to backhand him as compensation.  _

_ “Was Gaius at the tavern again?”  _

_ “No, no,” Merlin mumbled. He wasn't sure where Gaius was last night, but he was definitely sober when he returned, opting to drink at home after he'd completed whatever errand he'd been on. Merlin was heavily scrutinized whilst he was told to clean up his mentor's messes.  _

_ Arthur got closer, grew ever more serious. “You can sleep in the antechamber again, if you need to.” _

_ Merlin shook his head. Gaius had given him a proper scolding the last time he had failed to come home at night. He was getting old, tired. He needed help around the infirmary. Gaius had looked so tired when Merlin arrived the next day, as though the lack of his help truly did knock him down a peg or two. Begging for Merlin to see sense, Gaius nearly cried as he explained how hard it was for him to take care of himself in his old age. Guilt bubbled in Merlin's heart and he had nodded, working himself to the bone to save the physician from fatigue. “It's my fault,” Merlin explained. “I didn't . . . I messed up quite a few of his projects. Guess I'm not as cut out for doctoring as he thought.” Again, he forced a shaky laugh. “I just need to help him catch up on things. Make it up to him.”  _

_ Arthur bit his lip, taking the clothes from Merlin and stepping behind the changing screen. “So long as you're sure.” _

_ “I am.” He wasn't.  _

“Lady Morgana.”

“Sir Leon. What do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I have news.”

“Come in.”

Morgana sighed as the door closed and Leon inched his way into her chambers. He paced to the window, looking down across the courtyard. 

“So what is it?” 

Leon turned and held out a slip of parchment. “I usually burn them after they're read. Gaius has been snooping.” 

Morgan unfolded the letter and skimmed it with a frown. “Merlin is hurt this badly?”

“Regretfully so, but read further. They've discovered the Goblin's weakness.” 

“Goblin fruit!” Her eyes went wide and she gave Leon and incredulous look. “I've heard of those in nursery rhymes . . . Are they truly what causes these — these mutations!”

“That is what it seems like.” Leon turned back to the window, peering out at the busybodies below. One stood out; a haggard old man, hobbling off in the direction of the tavern. “Do you have any idea where he might be able to grow such fruits?” 

“Well, I don't know anything about them. I always thought they were invented for the sake of whatever morals my childhood stories were meant to tell.” 

“Do you think he has a planter in the infirmary?” 

“If only it were that simple,” Morgana groaned, slamming the letter down on the table. “I haven't noticed any, but I've been avoiding that place like the plague.”

“Unfortunately, I end up frequenting it more often.”

“What has he done to you this time?”

“I don't know yet, my lady. With luck, he may be laying off on the ill effects for now.”

“Does he suspect you know something?”

“Perhaps.”

“What about the royal gardens?”

Leon faced her, one eyebrow raised. “What about them?”

“Surely Gaius has access to them. They grow lavender and chamomile.”

“Would he be able to get away with planting something in there?”

Morgana shook her head, eyes wide as she searched for any reason why this might not be the answer they were looking for. “I don't see why not. The lords’ children sometimes are able to help tend to it.” 

“Then we'll go there in the morning, see what we can find.” 

She nodded, pulling out a seat for herself at the table. “There is another problem.”

“What is it?”

“Uther has decided to expand the search.”

“What?”

“He plans to send men past the outlying villages, to go as far as Cenred's land.”

Leon placed his hands down on the table and leaned over her. “Morgana, I need to be on that mission. I know where they are, I can lead them away.”

Again, Morgana nodded. “I'll suggest you when he rallies the knights.”

Leon stood, looking haunted. “I have to write them a warning. Maybe they can continue north.”

Morgana frowned. “They can't. They'll be traveling too close to Ealdor. Uther knows that that's where Merlin's from.”

“Then east, perhaps.”

“It's been nearly two months, Leon. Maybe it's time for them to come home.”

Leon spun around, looking betrayed. “They'll kill Merlin,” he warned harshly. “Nothing anyone says can change the king's mind. Gaius will just say he's enchanted them.”

Morgana regained her feet and rounded the table to place her hands firmly on Leon's shoulders. “We know how to defeat the goblin now. With luck, we'll have the real Gaius back before they even enter the city.”

Leon sighed and digested her words for a moment. Then, he gave a curt nod, summoning determination he didn't quite have. “I'll see to it that they know their options then.”


	10. Hungry Thirsty Roots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana and Leon inspect the goblin fruit whilst Gwaine ponders what his future may hold.

“They fit?”

Merlin wiggled his toes and shifted his feet inside of the new leather boots that his friends had given him. “Think so.” 

Arthur clapped him on the back. “And they're not all ratty like your old ones. And we'll be free of your foot smell for a while, too.”

“My feet don't st-stink much like yours do!”

Arthur smiled. Merlin was getting much better at talking without a stutter. It wasn't gone completely, but he didn't seem to struggle as much when he spoke. “You're just used to your own stench.” 

Gwen laughed from where she was packing her things. “If the two of you don't stop, you'll be out of breath for the journey home.” 

Gwaine shifted awkwardly in the corner, where he was shoving his own meager belongings into a rucksack. No one had mentioned his involvement in this so he was unsure if he was invited to attend them on this mission. He himself still wasn't sure if he wished to go. The lack of surety stopped him from asking. He'd rather be taken where the wind blew him, so he figured it'd be best to leave it up to the band of odd friends as to whether or not he'd be joining them. 

And if they said nothing, he'd leave them be. 

Besides, it was about time that he got on with his travels. Though he must admit that he was growing fond of this misfit trio, he'd have to leave eventually. What else was he to do? Stay with them in the city? The idea was absurd. He wouldn't be able to handle the stone walls and the monotony of regular life. No, he'd surely much rather be a vagabond. 

“Gwaine?” 

He smiled, tossed his bag onto the desk and turned. “Hmm?”

“Will you be joining us on the journey back to Camelot?” Gwen asked.

Gwaine bit his lip and fought a smile, but he nodded. “If you'll have me.” 

Gwen grinned back at him and drew her attention back to her own packing. “You're more than welcome.”

“Great,” Gwaine answered, feeling an ache in his chest. 

He'd leave once Merlin was safe, he told himself. He just wanted to see his new friends off before he continued roaming. 

  
  


By the time they'd paid the innkeeper and reached the loaded cart, Merlin was swaying on his feet. He stopped and held onto the side of the wagon, closing his eyes and trying to breathe normally. His friends could plainly see how frustrated he was, how he had obviously hoped that he was well enough to stroll through the woods unhindered. 

But he just wasn't. 

He was walking without support, but only for a short distance before his head went dizzy. Soon after his right ankle would ache, maybe even lock up on him. 

“Come on,” Arthur said gently as he guided Merlin to the back of the wagon with a hand on his back. 

Merlin offered him a weary smile and tried not to get flustered as he was helped up and into the cart. Arthur and Gwaine climbed in after him, settling down amongst their bags and boxes, all cushioned with a few pillows and a hoard of blankets. 

Gwen took to the seat first, holding steady the reins of the horse that had been treated well by the stablehand. Gwaine stood up, being careful not to pinch Merlin or Arthur with his boots, and drew a tarp up and over them to keep out the sun or the rain. Then he sat at the edge, his feet dangling off the wagon. 

Merlin sighed through his nose and looked up at the thick fabric that filtered the bright sun into a peaceful glow. The weather had been getting colder as fall approached, but the air in the wagon quickly grew warm from their breaths, the tarp keeping them safe from the occasional gusts of wind. 

“Would you stop squirming?” 

“Sorry.”

They laid in silence for a few more moments. Then, it was Arthur's turn to sigh. 

“Why don't you try to sleep or something?” Arthur asked with a shake of his head. 

Merlin shrugged, his better shoulder rising a bit higher than his right one. “M'not tired.”

Arthur laughed quietly. “Alright, out with it.”

“What?”

“What are you thinking?”

Merlin shook his head, feigning ignorance. “I'm not tih-thinking anything.”

“Oh, come off it, Merlin,” Arthur chided. “You're a terrible liar, especially now.”

Merlin turned his head and looked at his prince with wide eyes. “I mm-made do for long enough,” he whispered. 

Arthur nodded, moving his hands to rest behind his head. “Yes you did.” He took one large, slow breath and Merlin watched as he closed his eyes. “However, you're avoiding my question.”

Merlin's eyes darted back and forth, waiting for Arthur to say more. But he didn't. Instead, he eventually peeked open one eye; a prompt for his friend to speak. 

“I'm worried about what-wuh-what will happen wh-when we . . . when we're back in C-Camelot.”

“With luck, Gaius will be back to his old self before we even get there.”

“I know. But . . . I also . . . don't . . . know. I haven't seen Gaius in all these w-weeks that we've been away. I'm having trouble remembering how things were before . . .”

Arthur hummed and mulled over Merlin's words in his mind. “It may take some reminding, Merlin. I'm sure that you and Gaius will have much to discuss, especially if he does not remember his time being possessed.”

“He's n-not the only person I need to talk to.”

Arthur sighed. “Merlin . . .”

“I have magic, Arthur,” Merlin said, his voice but a breath on Arthur's ear. “I can't . . . I won't stop pr-protecting you. You can't man-make me.”

“I don't intend to,” Arthur admitted. 

“Then what?”

“I've had a long time to think about this, Merlin; even longer than you've been awake.” Arthur shifted onto his side and looked into his friend's eyes. “I'm not going to punish you for having magic, Merlin, and I'm not going to punish you for lying either. I think you've been through enough over the past few months.”

“So this reprieve is out of pity?”

“No,” Arthur amended. “I just . . . the more that time goes on, the more it seems as though you've done nothing wrong.”

“But I have,” Merlin admitted, voice thick and eyes wet. “I've m-made mistakes. I woh-wanted to tell you muh-myself, but I didn't. I'm n-not sure if I ever would have.”

“Why not?”

“I'd have been too afraid.”

“Of what?”

Merlin laughed a sad, hollow laugh. “Of dying? Of leaving you. Of hah-having you hate me for . . .” His voice cracked and he stopped, swallowing his tears before they could fall. 

“I don't hate you, Merlin. And you're not dying, not by my hand.”

“You . . . your father.”

“We'll work around that,” Arthur said. “We'll figure things out, I promise. But right now, we need to focus on getting home.”

Gwaine pretended not to hear as Merlin whispered his gratitude to his prince. He tried to ignore the ping of pain in his chest as he thought of what it'd be like to finally be going home, to be able to make promises and keep them. 

“This must be them.”

Morgana and Leon stood in the palace gardens, looking down at thick, twisted vines, covered in an array of gnarled thorns. Growing from buds, were bobbles of fleshy fruits, light colored spines branching out from their round bodies. Each one was a different color, some warm and vibrant and others cool and dark. 

Morgana poked one of the fruits experimentally. The spines resisted her finger, but were not so sturdy that they pricked her. Each fruit was about the size of a fist, covered in dozens of these pastel spines, making them each look fuzzy from a distance. 

“How do we harvest them?” Leon asked, keeping his distance from the bizarre plant. 

Morgana shook her head. “I don't know.” She bit her lip, but adjusted her squat as she gripped a thornless spot of the vine with one hand and held the fruit firmly with the other. She pulled the two apart with all of her might, but they refused to break apart.

“Here.” Leon held out the hilt of a dagger and she took it. 

But the tough skin of the plant would not split. It simply gave beneath the pressure of the blade and bounced back when it was removed. 

“It won't cut.”

“Perhaps it's enchanted.”

“This may be the nature of goblin fruit,” Morgana suggested. “Perhaps only magic can cut it.”

Leon sighed. “Another dead end. Will we never be free of this creature.”

“Hold on,” Morgana said, turning away from him slightly. “I'm going to try something.”

Leon watched as she placed her thumb and her finger at the base of the fruit. She took a deep, shaky breath, and began whispering words in a foreign tongue.

Feeling lightheaded by all that was happening in his life recently, Leon averted his eyes as the king's ward's eyes glowed gold. He made the decision to just come to terms with the fact that anyone he knew could have magic and that he should just stop being surprised by it at this point. 

A small snap could be heard and Morgana let out a stout laugh before holding the fruit up triumphantly. “Let's go,” she uttered brandishing their prize and dragging Leon out of the gardens by his wrist. 

Now in the lady's chambers once more, Leon and Morgana studied the fruit warily. The center was deep blue, almost purple, and the spines that grew from it were a pale green. The stem was a darker color and morphed right into the body of the fruit with a short gradient in color. 

“How do we prepare it?” 

“Did they not include that in the letters they sent you?”

Leon shook his head. “You've read all that I know.”

Morgana sighed. “Gaius just has to eat this?”

“That's how they made it sound.”

“Then I suppose we should start by removing the peel.” She took out the dagger that Leon had lent her and carefully brought it to the base of the stem. She mumbled a spell and the blade began to cut, slicing a small divot into the flesh of the fruit. Once there was a line big enough, she dropped the knife and dug her nails under the skin and peeled it back. 

Beneath the spiny peel of the fruit was a white, fleshy, sweet smelling center. Somewhat translucent in color, they could see a thick, red pit in the center of it. 

“That has to be the strangest fruit that I have ever seen,” Leon uttered. “How are you planning to give it to him?” 

“Tea?” Morgana suggested. “Though I'm not sure how I would brew it . . . Maybe a pie or a pastry.”

“Forgive me, but no matter what you make I suspect that Gaius will be wary of accepting food from us.”

“I'll think of something,” Morgana assured him. “You leave for the search tomorrow?”

Leon nodded. “Indeed.”

“Don't let them find them, Leon.”

“I know. I won't.” 


	11. A Sleep Like Death

Merlin sat with his legs in the stream, wiggling his toes through the flowing water. Arthur and Gwen had helped sponge him down and were now wading through the river themselves, trying to get clean. Gwaine was sitting in nothing but his trousers to Merlin's side, hair still soaked and dripping onto his dry pants. 

Eyes drooping towards sleep, Merlin was startled when Gwaine elbowed him in the arm. His lashes fluttered and he slowly turned to look at the man. 

“What's it like, eh? Back home with them?” 

Merlin hummed and looked out at Arthur and Gwen, the prince gingerly massaging the maiden's scalp. “It's . . . busy.”

“Never a dull moment, I bet,” Gwaine huffed, picking at a reed in the grass until it snapped. 

“Never,” Merlin agreed.

“So the prince runs you ragged?” Gwaine stuck the reed in his mouth and began idly chewing on it. 

“No,” Merlin amended, then stopped. “Wuh-well sometimes. But he's a good man.”

“Not a stuck up prince with the world on a plate?”

Merlin bit his lip in though for a moment. “No. Not really. Maybe once, but n-not now.”

Gwaine leaned forward, cocking an eyebrow. “I suppose you had something to do with that?” 

Merlin shook his head, but his face flushed pink, betraying him. “He's grown a lot over the past few years. I'm proud of him.”

“Proud enough to bow?” 

“Without question.” 

Gwaine studied Merlin, took in how  _ sure  _ he was of the prince in the water before them. Normally the vagabond would call his behavior subservient—the mentality of a suckup, a  _ bootlicker.  _ But not Merlin. He wasn't afraid of Arthur, didn't idolize him either. 

“D’you think I'd fancy it? Camelot?” Gwaine asked.

“No,” Merlin answered, more quickly than the man expected. “Too many stone walls. You'd ff-feel trapped.”

Gwaine nodded. He thought so too. But he wasn't so much thinking about Camelot as a  _ place  _ anymore, but rather a cluster of unusual people. 

When Merlin woke the next morning, early and in the back of a moving wagon, he felt the need to practice his walking. It had been two days since they had departed from the inn, and they were taking an odd, roundabout route home that Leon had insisted on, which would take over a week to navigate. Merlin had spent most of this time lounging, resting, and he was beginning to fear that his comfort would undo all of the healing he had accomplished. 

So, Gwaine slowed down the pace of the wagon and he walked alongside it, good hand grasping the rim of the cart to help keep him steady as he walked.

“You're tiring me out just looking at you,” Arthur jibed. “You want to give it a rest soon?”

“No,” Merlin said, and he struggled to do so. He was tired, but he hadn't lived a moment since he was tugged out of that box without feeling exhausted. He wanted to just curl up and sleep until he was better, until his leg and his arm and his mind worked properly again. However, he knew that that would spell disaster. He'd spent enough years under Gaius's teachings that he was able to berate himself for wanting to throw away his chances so carelessly. 

“Maybe you ought to give the horse a rest and we'll have you pull the carriage.”

Merlin huffed, but looked down at the path ahead, focusing on his walking. 

“Is your ankle cooperating?”

“ _ Arthur,”  _ Merlin sighed, frowning down at his boots. 

“What?” the prince asked, wondering how his concern had offended his friend.

Merlin's face heated up and he just continued walking and breathing for a few moments. Then he said, “I can't . . . I can't w-walk and talk . . . at the same time.”

Arthur stared at him, odd guilt settling in his stomach. Again, Merlin looked frustrated, more intensely than he had in recent years. It reminded Arthur that Merlin's mind was still on the mend, that being neglected and abused in the dark had twisted his emotions. Gwaine too had mentioned men becoming different people entirely after experiencing a condition such as Merlin's. He hoped that it was not an effect that was developed, and that Merlin would not slowly become less and less himself. With luck, his unusual bursts of emotion and irritability was the bulk of his mental afflictions. The prince knew better than to be so hopeful, but things were looking up. They were heading home. 

Leon worried at his lip as he trudged through the woods with Uther's band of hunters. They were edging dangerously close to the path that he had told his friends to take. In fact, if they continued in the direction that they were headed in, they'd cross right over it. And if Arthur, Merlin, Gwen, and their new acquaintance had already passed through, the knights were sure to follow the trail left by the stolen wagon. 

The trouble was, Leon couldn't come up with any good excuses to prompt the other knights to change direction. He'd already been trying to walk to the west of the group in hopes that they would naturally curve away from the path with him, but he was not the head of this expedition. Uther's head knight, not Arthur's, led the men headstrong through the forest, as if he could smell the prince already.

Stepping away from the group even further, Leon leaned on a tree and took a swig from his waterskin, deep in thought. If only there was a false trail. He had half a mind to learn magic right then and there so that he could create a distraction, if the prince was so willing to accept it. He could rustle some bushes or cause illusions or footprints to materialize, sending the knights chasing after pretend figures in a frenzy. 

Now wait, that seemed like a very  _ familiar  _ circumstance to be in.  _ That sneaky little servant, _ Leon thought, shaking his head. The more time that passed, the more Leon realized that magic was far more helpful in the grand city of Camelot, and the less he felt that Merlin should be the game for this hunt he was on. Merlin should be given some armor and a dazzling red cloak, not thrown to the pyre. 

He shuddered as he thought about what might happen if their plan failed. He would have to think of something other than magic to guide the men away from his friends’ trail. 

Heaving a sigh, he pushed off the tree and trudged over to the mule that was tailing them, finding and retrieving his pack. He dug through it, sorting through his own clothes and trying to decide which tunic he'd miss the least. He chose a simple white one, nice enough that it could be the casual wear if Prince Arthur, but not overly comfortable or sentimental. With a grunt, he tore some pieces from the sleeve and slipped away from the troop of men entirely, hoping he could make it look like these scraps of cloth had been naturally torn from the clothes of a prince being dragged through the woods by a mad servant. 

"Here!" he called, waving his arm to his fellow knights as he circled back. 

They hustled over, eyeing the first of many white scraps, ribboning from the barks of branches. Some of the men uttered curses towards the treacherous servant and Leon bit his tongue as they marched off in the opposite direction of the man in question. 

_ "Ah!" Merlin sprawled onto the floor of Gaius's chambers, hands and knees scraping against the hard surface.  _

_ "You idiot boy!" Gaius hollered, waving a thick book in his hand. "Practicing magic with the door open! Do you want to be hanged?" _

_ "No, I was just—" _

_ "Do you want to burn?"  _

_ "I was just researching the goblin, I—" _

_ Gaius slammed the book down onto the bench and stalked closer to Merlin. He was shaking, livid, eyes flickering about Merlin as if waiting for another sign of him using magic. "You disappoint me, Merlin! Only a fool would be so stupid as to flaunt your powers around as you do!" _

_ "I'm sorry, Gaius. I won't—it won't happen again," Merlin muttered, wiping tears from his cheeks.  _

_ "See that it doesn't!" Gaius huffed. He turned away, giving Merlin a wary look over his shoulder. _

_ Merlin nodded silently as he collected himself and slowly holed up in his room. He climbed up to the window and looked out over the city. The sight sent his gut into a twist, the nostalgia of his early days in Camelot knotting together with the hurt he felt.  _

_ He was a fool to have come to Camelot. He couldn't protect Arthur. He was no hero of legend. He couldn't even save Gaius from the stress of little green man running ramped through the castle.  _

_ People were hurting because of him, because he stuck his nose in things he shouldn't have and didn't have the strength to right his wrongs. _

_ The following morning, Merlin fell terribly ill after a breakfast that he felt guilty eating. His strength waned more rapidly than one thought possible and his breathing was slow and painful. He felt like he was being pressed into his bed by stones as he exerted himself just to inhale. He heard Arthur try to visit, heard him arguing with Gaius and how their conversation turned into shouting. He couldn't understand what was said; it all felt so distant, and he figured he must have become delirious when he started hearing barn animals instead of voices.  _

_ He was so tired. He stopped putting effort into breathing. It hurt too much. There was nothing he could really do for it now. He wasn't of sound enough mind to use magic and doubted that he was capable of healing himself anyway. He figured he'd just leave things up to fate. He didn't want to die, but he let the world drift away nonetheless. He would be none the wiser if he never woke up, and all he wanted to do was sleep.  _

Merlin woke up slowly, blinking up at the stars. He felt nauseous. They were so very close to the city walls. So close to Gaius. 

"Got something on your mind?"

He propped himself up on his good elbow and eyed Gwaine, who was sat by the fire with a sword on his lap. 

"I might do," Merlin whispered, sitting up. 

"We're nearly there then, hmm? The great city of Camelot." Gwaine laughed at himself, shifting on the stump he sat on. 

"It's home," Merlin sighed, taking big, deep breaths, if only to remind himself that he could.

"I thought you were a country man?"

"I was," Merlin admitted. "But I w-wasn't welcome back home."

"And you're more welcome in Uther's kingdom?"

"No," Merlin answered, closing his eyes as he leaned back against a tree. "But in Arthur's, maybe."

Gwaine smiled slightly, picking at the fraying leather of his scabbard. "Where're you from, then? Nemeth? Caerleon?"

"Essetir. A small village nn-named Ealdor. Just me and my—my mum."

"That's a nasty place to have been with magic, even compared to Camelot."

Merlin scoffed. "It's near the border. Cenred didn't care about us. By the time that the rumors of a young sorcerer, ready t-to be wuh-whipped into a soldier, hailing from there reached his ears, I was already gone." 

"And your escape of choice was Camelot?"

Merlin scoffed again, but it was thick, and his breath came wet when he next spoke. "My . . . My mm-mother sent me to—to Gaius. She knew him. I c-c-couldn't control my-my powers so she . . ."

"Gaius was a sorcerer."

"Once."

"What about him?"

"Who?"

"Arthur."

Merlin turned to look at his prince, sleeping soundly a few paces away by the spoked wheel of the wagon.

"W-wuh-well he's not a  _ sorcerer, _ " Merlin joked, letting out a hearty chuckle. 

Gwaine laughed with him, but then schooled his face back into a serious expression. "How long has he known?"

Merlin bit his lip and nervously glanced over at his prince again. "I don't actually know. I suppose since beh-before I w-woke up." The thought sent chills up Merlin's spine. He had been raking his memory for any sign of Arthur knowing but he found it impossible to pinpoint when exactly he had found out. It unsettled him; that his great secret had revealed itself without him so much as suspecting it was out.

"What about that Guinevere?" 

"Oh," Merlin sighed, grateful to be drawn out of his thoughts. "Gwen's charming; c-cares a whole lot about everyone, even Uther."

"I'm not sure I'd consider that a redeeming quality," Gwaine harrumphed. 

"N-no, it is," Merlin amended. "To be uncaring is to be unforgiving. If we w-were to hate Uther without room for forgiveness, whu-what would we be if not as ho-horrid as he is?"

"You really think  _ Uther  _ can be forgiven?" Gwaine asked in offense. 

Merlin shrugged. "I don't know."

"He's done one too many terrible things for my forgiveness," Gwaine elaborated, crossing his arms. "And you—you should be the last person to give him any leeway. He's out for your head."

"Uther as he is now, yes," Merlin agreed. "I ha-haven't a scrap of love in—in my heart for that man." He paused, swallowed. "But Uther in a year? Two? Muh-maybe he can—can be swayed. There are mm-mm-more ways to p-pay for a crime than in death." 

Gwaine marveled at Merlin then. To think that such a wounded man could be so kind. It were as if a cornered mouse stood to reason with the cat instead of fighting or cowering in fear. 

Merlin wasn't without fear, however. But his fears did not so much involve mortality as they did the softer, closer things. He did not fear Uther's rath. He feared Gaius's betrayal. He did not fear Arthur uncovering his secret. He feared his hurt and his pain. He did not fear the chopping block. No, he feared the saddened faces that would be watching his head fall.


	12. Do Not Speak With Goblin Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana attempts to rescue Gaius whilst the others sneak into the palace.

Morgana was at her wit's end trying to slip Gaius a taste of his own medicine. She had initially tried to coax him into drinking tea with her, in the guise of apologizing to him for how much tension there had been between them. He treated her with skepticism, however, and claimed to be far too busy.

Now she made her way directly to his chambers, a vial of goblin fruit juice tucked into her sleeve discreetly. Her heart was rabbiting away in her chest and she tugged her sleeve down further in paranoia. Her heels clicked loudly in the empty hall and she struggled to keep calm as she finally approached his door. 

Something about the way he had looked at her last time felt like a warning. 

She knocked on the door, the silence responding making her ears ring. She knocked once more. When there was no answer, she slipped inside. 

"Gaius?" she called. He didn't appear to be there, and no fresh potions were bubbling or boiling. With luck, he was out for the day. 

She checked the rest of the chambers to be sure, peering behind the screen and looking in at Merlin's room. 

When she was sure that she was alone, she took the vial in her hand and paced to the workbench. His waterjug was only a third of the way full. He very well might be out collecting more from the fountain, or chasing around the servants to do so for him. Nonetheless, she uncorked the vial and tipped its contents into the jug to mingle with the last of his drinking water. 

Just as the last drop hit the water, footsteps echoed outside and she froze, breath catching in her chest. She quickly tucked the empty glass back into her sleeve and hustled up the steps to Merlin's old room, stumbling in and out of sight just as she heard the main door click open. 

Gaius hobbled in. The goblin, drunk and tired, waved off whatever maid he had been badgering and leaned back on the door to shut it. He sauntered in, slinking over to a barrel and retrieving a small chest. Morgana watched in disgust as he placed it on the table and opened it, revealing all of the stolen and scammed coins he'd taken over the past few months. He ogled them, dipped his hands into them and rubbed them between his fingers. He brought them to his face and  _ licked them,  _ letting the taste linger on his lips and savoring it.

This truly was a beast of greed that had taken over their physician, and a physician is one of the most dangerous places for greed to reside. 

The old man smacked his lips whilst Morgana tried to keep down the contents of her stomach. He shut the chest and hid the coins, shuffling lazily about the room before sitting on the bench. 

He hummed and huffed as he adjusted the way that he sat and began to pick and poke at the beakers and trinkets that he had laid out. He smacked his lips again, mumbled to himself, and leaned forward to take hold of the water jug. 

Morgana gripped tightly onto the side of Merlin's wardrobe, anything to help contain her nerves. The goblin wet his lips and brought the whole jug straight to his lips.

He paused, held the jug there for a few moments, the water nearly reaching his tongue. Slowly, ever so slowly, he placed the jug back down and Morgana felt her heart drop. 

The goblin cleared his throat and pushed himself back onto his feet. He stood there for a moment, biting his lip, before turning towards the open door of Merlin's chambers.

Morgana gasped and leapt to her feet, knowing that she was cornered. She dashed out of the room and ran as fast as she could towards Gaius, hoping to get past him and reach the hall, but the old man caught her by the arm in a deadly tight grip and swung her around.

"No!" Morgana yelled, pushing and shoving at his chest, trying desperately to yank her arm free, but the goblin just tightened his hold and grabbed at her hair. 

Morgana started  _ squealing _ . She didn't care how she sounded, who would hear. She just started making noises as loud as she could muster. 

"Oh, dear, my lady," the goblin cooed. "You're having a fit. They're only nightmares, my dear." 

Morgana sunk to the floor, hoping to pull free with her weight, but Gaius just knelt down with her. She kicked at him, twisted and turned, but he held firm, shushing her. 

"Quiet, quiet," Gaius whispered, and somehow she could hear above her own screams. When she did not stop, the goblin released her arm and brought his hand to her face, covering her mouth. 

She squirmed and grabbed at his hand, scratching and clawing at it to  _ get it off,  _ but it did not budge. And she was so terribly panicked that she did not think to use magic, not in this state and not on dear, old Gaius. 

_ "Shhhh."  _ His grip on her jaw tightened for just a moment and Morgana saw his eyes glow gold out of the corner of her eye. 

She began to cry as she felt his magic touch hers. It was so vile and greedy and it flowed from his hand and into her mouth. 

"There, isn't that batter?" the goblin asked, releasing her at last, stepping back to view his handiwork. "No more shouting, now."

Morgana's yells and cries were muffled and she brought her hand up to her mouth, trying to pry it open, to find her lips, but there was nothing there but smooth skin. Her breath came heavily through her nose, huffing and sniffling and hurting her lungs. She sobbed for she felt hopeless; the goblin's magic bearing down on her unlike anything she had ever felt before. Her chest burned with the strain and she doubled over, holding herself. 

At last, a guard came to the door and stepped inside. Morgana looked at him with wide eyes, but could say nothing, only look up at his expression of horror.

"Quickly!" Gaius announced, "Alert the king! The lady Morgana has been attacked!" 

The guard bowed, stuttered, then clamored out the door. Morgana looked back up at the goblin, glossy eyed and trembling. 

"Come now," Gaius uttered, helping her to stand. "You best rest. You've been through quite an ordeal and we're going to have trouble healing you with no mouth to drink remedies."

Morgana thought about running, about resisting until the king came and she could try with all her might to tell him who the traitor was, but it was no use. Gaius had spun a vast web. Anything she did would be hysterics by his word. So she laid back in the patient's cot and closed her eyes, trying to stop crying so that her nose wouldn't clog up and stop her breathing.

They were there, at the gates of Camelot. Well,  _ a  _ gate of Camelot. Arthur had guided them to one of the few secret entrances, unsure if Morgana and Leon had succeeded in their plan and unwilling to risk Merlin's freedom by waltzing in the front entrance as though everything was fine. 

"It will take us to the royal wine cellar," Arthur informed them as they surveyed the large, bolted gate. 

"How do we get inside?" Gwaine questioned as he hopped off the back of the wagon. 

"Usually, I'd have a key . . ."

"We should go in before nightfall," Gwen suggested. "Leon had mentioned a curfew in one of his letters." 

Arthur thought for a moment, rubbing at his chin. "You two should go first." He nodded to Gwen and Gwaine. "You're the least recognizable."

"We still need to open the gate."

"I can open the gate."

They all looked towards Merlin, who was still leaning on their carriage and looking a little worse for wear. He was overall, rather unimpressive looking, other than the fact that he managed to stay on his own two feet. 

"How?"

Merlin, even with only half of his face able to move properly, shot Arthur a rather outstanding incredulous expression. He waited, as though he expected the prince to catch on to what he was suggesting in his own time, but Arthur just tilted his head, prompting Merlin to continue. 

Merlin sighed and shook his head. "With magic," he said, as though it were obvious. 

And it  _ was _ obvious, really, which is why Arthur smacked himself in the face before nodding and beckoning Merlin to do as he saw fit. 

Merlin pushed off the cart and walked over to the large metal gates. He found the hefty lock and held it cupped in his hands. He leaned over it, surrounded it with as much of his body as possible, before he began to mumble a string of otherworldly words. 

Instead of the lock popping open and the gates swinging out to let them in, Merlin frowned, shook his head and started over, muttering and stuttering over the spell.

"Onlucan þes clue-cah-ce-clústor, ale-liefan oo-ús infah-fær."

He said this a few times, getting caught on different letters and stuck on various words. But nothing happened. 

"Merlin?"

"Shh!" He tried again. "Onlucan þþþes clah-clúsuh-stor, aliefan ús-ús infær." His hands were trembling around the lock and his face was heating up. 

"Something wrong there, mate?"

Merlin huffed and let the lock fall, stomping away a few paces and hiding his face with his good hand. Arthur felt an ominous nostalgia creep into his mind. It was that old hot headedness that Arthur would have recognized on a younger Merlin, a cruder Merlin. Was this frustration always bubbling beneath the surface? Arthur had thought that Merlin had grown out of his red faced stubbornness, but perhaps he had merely learnt to hide it, to keep it to himself. 

"Merlin?" 

"I can't." He looked through his fingers at Arthur and, though he wasn't crying, his eyes were glossy and stressed. 

"Can't what?" 

"I can't unlock the g-gate. I thought I c-could but I can't say the spell." 

"Well," Arthur paused. He did not know what to say. "That's alright, we'll break it open some other way." 

Merlin shook his head, hunching over himself. He mumbled something, though Arthur couldn't hear. 

"What?"

"I  _ need  _ to do it."

"No, Merlin. We can—"

Merlin brought his hand down and stared at Arthur with wide eyes. "No, I n-need to be  _ able  _ to do it. Arthur, I can't  _ not  _ do magic."

"Why not?" 

"It hurts." 

"Well what's stopping you?" 

"The words! I stuh-still can't  _ talk right  _ and spells are complicated. I can't meh-mispeak or they won't  _ work. _ "

Arthur frowned, looking back at Merlin as though he were dumb. "That didn't stop you before?"

"What?"

"You fixed my voice," Arthur explained, then he smiled sheepishly, "and my ears. You didn't use a spell then."

Merlin's face grew redder. "I know," he grumbled. 

"Then what's different?"

"I don't know." Merlin looked to the ground, hugging himself and suddenly feeling very tired. "I didn't even used to  _ know  _ any spells. But . . . weh-with all of this," he gestured to his own head, "I can't concentrate. Spells muh-make it easier and . . . what I did for you at—at the inn was  _ instinctual.  _ I didn't have to think s-so hard about it. But this is so p-plain and simple I don't . . . I don't know w-why but I can't seem to concentrate enough to do it with  _ or  _ without a spell."

Arthur bit his lip in thought. All of this magic business didn't make much sense to him, but Merlin's explanation gave him a vague understanding. "This spell, is it in your spellbook?" 

Merlin looked back at him, confused. "Yes."

"Well . . . does it have to be  _ you  _ that says the spell?"

Merlin just kept staring, his mind working at the question that had been asked of him. "You want to do magic?" He almost looked horrified by the idea. 

"Not necessarily," Arthur objected, waving his hand about in search for what he wanted to say. "More like, I say the words and you do the spell."

Merlin frowned. "That's not . . . I don't know if that would w-work." 

"Listen, I can't learn magic in a day, but I might be able to learn how to say a bit of nonsense. It'd be worth a try, right?" 

Though unsure, Merlin nodded and lead the prince back to the cart.

Gwen and Gwaine stared at each other, shock on both of their faces. Gwaine was beginning to question all that he thought he knew about the Pendragon line. And Gwen was beaming with pride, no matter how anxious she also was. 

"Here." Merlin pointed to the spell in his book.

Arthur ogled at the whole page, the sprawled letters and foreign scribbles making it hard for him to recognize anything. "Hardly any of this is in proper English."

"Well, no," Merlin agreed. "It's in the—the language of old. Here, the spell literally truh-translates to 'unlock the lock, let us enter'."

"So you just . . .  _ say  _ what you want to happen and it happens?" 

"Sort of. Like I said, the s-spells aren't the actual magic bit, they just help fo-focus and channel our magic where we neh-need it to go. It's how Gaius t-taught me to control my powers. And most people are rather c-clu-clumsy with their magic when they don't use an incantation."

"So how's this going to work?" 

"Um . . . well first you should t-try to get the pr-pro-p-p-p—"

"Pronunciation?" 

"Yes."

"Well, what does it say then?" 

Merlin turned and read from the book. "On-on-onlu—"

"Stop." Arthur sighed and tried not to be impatient with his friend. "Read it slowly, so you don't stammer."

"Sorry." Merlin sheepishly turned back to the page and began again, reading slowly, far too slow to have been an effective focus for actual magic, in fact. "Onlucan þes clústor . . . aliefan ús infær."

Arthur shook his head, not having retained much of anything. "One part at a time," he suggested.

"Onlucan þes clústor."

"Onlucan thees cluster," he tried. 

Merlin frowned. "Þes clús _ tor." _

"Þes clústor?" Arthur said, uncertain, though he had said it right. "Onculan þes clústor."

It was clumsy and Arthur definitely wavered in his delivery, but it was pronounced properly. "That's about right," Merlin encouraged.

Gwaine leaned towards Gwen as the two watched Merlin teach  _ the prince  _ how to spell. "Are you as bewildered as I am or is this the sort of thing one is ought to witness in Camelot?"

Gwen shook her head. "A little of both. Merlin never ceases to surprise me with what he can do."

"He does not look like a fellow who practices magic, eh?"

"Oh, well yes. There's that," Gwen flustered. "But no, I was more referring to, um, how much good he brings out in Arthur, how much change he brings about us." 

Gwaine hummed. He was beginning to think that this Merlin lad was causing changes in himself as well. 

It took quite a while, but Arthur eventually managed to work his tongue around the Old English words. Gwaine and Guinevere gathered round as they readied themselves by the gate. Merlin held the lock in his hands. Arthur stood behind him. 

"Ready?"

Merlin nodded, closing his eyes to concentrate. 

Arthur took a deep breath and steadily repeated the magic phrase. "Onlucan þes clústor, aliefan ús infær." 

There was no spark of gold. The gate did not burst open. The lock didn't so much as shift. Merlin shook his head in frustration. "Again."

"Onlucan þes clústor, aliefan ús infær!" Arthur tried to sound more confident.

"No."

"Onlucan þes clústor, aliefan ús infær?" He wavered.

Gwaine and Gwen exchanged looks of concern, both mentally thinking of different ways that they may sneak into the city. 

Merlin shook his head again with a growl and let go of the lock. 

"Merlin," Arthur sighed, apologetically, but Merlin cut him off by yanking on his arms. He took Arthur's hands and placed them around the lock, closing them tight in fists. 

"This way," he breathed, keeping his own hands around Arthur's wrists. He leaned forward onto Arthur's back, screwing his eyes shut. "Do it."

"Merlin . . ."

"Do it."

"Oh . . . Onlucan þes clústor . . . aliefan ús infær," Arthur said softly, far more focused on Merlin's despair than the spell. 

Merlin made a frustrated sound. "Arthur! F-f-focus on the lock! Say it again . . . please."

Arthur nodded, and cleared his head, heaving a big sigh before rolling his shoulders and gripping onto the lock even more tightly than before. "Onlucan þes clústor, aliefan ús infær."

"Again!" 

_ "Onlucan þes clústor, aliefan ús infær!" _

Arthur gasped as the words left his mouth, for a jolt of energy surged through him. He could feel it vibrating all around him, in the air and in his lungs. Where Merlin's chest was pressed against his back, he felt numb, and Merlin's fingertips felt like ice and fire all at once. 

He felt the lock shift in his hands and he let go. It dropped to the ground as he and Merlin stumbled backward.

"What happened?" Gwaine asked, looking at the two of them with wide eyes. 

Arthur was panting, from the shock of it all, or the energy passing through him, he wasn't sure, but he felt that he could not speak. Merlin wasn't touching him anymore, and it were as though some intense connection had been severed. 

He looked up and Merlin was beaming, unphased by whatever Arthur had experienced. "It worked!"

"Is that how you feel all of the time?" Arthur asked.

"What d'you mean?"

Arthur stared, bewildered, as Merlin pulled open the gate, holding it open for them to begin their trespass. 

_ Wonders never cease. _


	13. Run Away Scared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin expresses his fears.

Gwen and Gwaine left Merlin and Arthur in the cellars as they snuck through the castle corridors. Gwen was sure to turn her head or step beside Gwaine whenever she saw a face that might recognize her too well. 

"Where're we headed exactly?" Gwaine uttered in her ear.

"To my lady's chambers. We can't afford to ask anyone official. If Merlin hasn't been pardoned yet and Arthur is found, they'll start searching the city again."

Gwaine thought of the indisposed young man sitting amongst Camelot's fine wines. "Well we don't want that."

They approached Morgana's wing and Gwen knocked lightly on the door. "My lady," she called, after checking that no friends were nearby to hear her voice. She knocked again and, when there was no answer, she swiftly withdrew a key from her dress and pressed the door open. 

"Morgana?" 

The room was empty, the bed unslept in. 

"What now?"

Gwen worried at her bottom lip. "We wait for her. If she doesn't arrive by midafternoon, we go back for Arthur." 

"And then?"

"I don't know."

Merlin was sitting behind a large barrel of wine, his head leaning back against the cool stone walls as he tried to sleep. His heart was beating hot and fast in his chest and he wished that he could forget where he was. Somewhere above them, Gaius was likely shuffling about. He wondered if he remembered his mentor's face accurately.

"They've been gone a while," Arthur said, disturbing the silence. He got up and paced to the front of the cask, surveying the nozzle idley. He picked a piece of dried fruit stuck to the front of it before flicking off into the dark. "We should go after them."

Merlin hummed, not opening his eyes. "They might not have found Mmm-morgana yet. Gwen's not to know her sc-schedule as she usually does." 

Arthur hummed back at him, scratching at a splinter that was coming loose. "If we hear people coming, Merlin, I want you to go back to the cart."

"Why?"

"If Morgana and Leon failed . . . If my father finds us here . . . Well, the men won't touch me, but you? They won't spare you for a moment." 

Merlin sighed. 

"I'm serious. I can hold them off. At worst, I'll be put in a cell. You can take the horse from the carriage, ride until you've found another place to hide." 

"I'm not doing that," Merlin stated. 

"Merlin."

"No."

Arthur sat back down against the base of the nearest cask. "Why not?"

Merlin furrowed his brow, eyes still firmly shut, and did not answer.

"Why can't you just save yourself for once?"

Merlin shook his head. "It would be . . ." He lifted his head and looked at his prince, eyes tired. "I need to be there to protect you if—"

"Protect me? Merlin, you can hardly walk! You're the one who needs protection right now! Not—"

"I can't," Merlin corrected. "I would come back. Probably at the wrong time. You can't ask me to leave Camelot, not without you."

"I can  _ tell  _ you to, though. I could  _ order it. _ "

"When has that ever stopped me?" Merlin smiled sadly at him. There was an unspoken promise. Merlin would never wander far from Arthur's side. 

Arthur held his gaze for moment, then shifted to get more comfortable. "You know, I didn't mind staying in the inn. You, me, and Gwen . . . And Gwaine. It was . . . nice."

Merlin's eyes rounded out and he looked offended. "No, Arthur. You-y-you're not fleeing again." 

"Why not? What's stopping me?"

"You're the  _ prince,"  _ Merlin seethed. "Camelot needs you."

"Who said so? Hmm? Maybe I don't want to be prince anymore. Maybe I'll let some other bloke do it."

Merlin was hurt by the notion. A pain stirred in his chest at the thought. "You don't . . . mean that." He sounded unsure. 

"No, I don't," Arthur agreed after a moment of thought. "But at the same time, I do." 

"You d-don't have to be prince  _ all  _ the time," Merlin suggested.

"How's that?"

"When . . . Well, you could always go on 'hunting trips'." Merlin made air quotes with his good hand, a smile tugging at his lips. 

Arthur scoffed. "We could. Every now and then . . . Just find an inn or a lake."

"Or a boat," Merlin mused. "I've never b-been on the sea before."

"You haven't?"

"No."

"I went once with my father, to France."

"How was it?"

"I don't remember. I was just a babe."

Merlin scoffed and closed his eyes again, arms crossed over his chest to keep himself warm. 

"I really do wish you'd run, Merlin. I could come fetch you when things are safe." 

"I know you do . . . I have half a mind to run away right now."

Arthur froze, the truth dawning on him. "That's why you can't?"

Merlin nodded. "That's why I can't . . . I may never find myself able to come back." 

Arthur looked at Merlin, saw a tear fall down his cheek and into his ear. He said nothing more, only waited.

"I don't want t-to see him," Merlin whispered. "I don't . . . I want him to be  _ Gaius."  _

"He will."

"Even if he is . . . I don't know if I'll be able to understand it."

_ There was something wrong with Gaius. Merlin was sure of it. Ever since the Goblin got out, he had been acting strangely. Had he been bewitched? Cursed? Merlin frustratedly turned the page in his book of magic in search of answers that he wouldn't find.  _

_ The door to the infirmary opened and he tucked the book away, crawling off his bed and slinking to the door. Gaius was alone in there, murmuring to himself strangely and going through the medicine cabinets as though he hadn't just sorted them himself just under a week ago.  _

_ "Gaius?"  _

_ "Merlin! What were you doing spying on me?" _

_ "I wasn't." Gaius might be more affected by his old age than Merlin had ever realized. He was obviously forgetful, paranoid, and the sudden drinking was troubling. "Are you alright?" _

_ "Of course I'm  _ alright _! At least I will be when we're rid of this stupid goblin." _

_ Merlin bowed his head in shame. "I've been trying to read up on it, Gaius. I just haven't been able to find anything just yet." _

_ "Well you best keep searching, boy! Or the whole castle will fall to ruins from its mayhem!" _

_ Merlin frowned at the harsh tone. Gaius's temper had been out of whack as well. "Are you sure you're alright, Gaius? I can do your rounds today if you're not feeling well."  _

_ Gaius studied him and Merlin was once again put off by his mentors seemingly unwarranted paranoia. After a moment though, he smiled and shook his head. "I'm fine, my boy. Just tired. That thing was making noise throughout the night!"  _

_ "Really?" Merlin asked, feeling guilty. _

_ Gaius nodded. "Here, my boy. I have something for you." He hobbled over to his cabinets and retrieved a strange jar of paste that Merlin had never seen before. "A traveler gifted me this jam the other morning and it is said to be most delicious. He was so kind to show me how to make it as well, and I know how you like your sweets." _

_ Merlin chuckled and made to excuse himself for work, but his stomach ached for food so he smiled instead, sitting down at the bench. Gaius took out an egg roll and lathered the thick, sickly sweet smelling cream onto the bread before handing it to his ward. _

_ "Smells delicious," Merlin said honestly. The smell, in fact, was fogging his mind and he couldn't wait another moment before he ate the thing. He took one bite and hummed for it was the sweetest treat he had ever tasted in his entire life. Within moments he was swallowing down the last bite and sucking on his fingers.  _

_ "I hope you enjoyed it," Gaius said, already starting to sound more like himself to Merlin's ears.  _

_ Merlin nodded, still rolling the taste around in his mouth, picking at what might be stuck in his teeth.  _

_ "Let's hope that motivates you to keep searching for that goblin!" _

_ Merlin's cheeks flushed red and he swallowed thickly.  _

_ "His havoc as spread to the lower towns by now," Gaius said. His stern face melted into a smile. "I'm sure you're smart enough to think of something." _

_ Merlin mumbled in agreement, humiliation creeping into his heart. Here he was treating Gaius with suspicion when he himself had caused his dear mentor's frustrations. Surely it was all his fault that Gaius was out of sorts, and to question his sanity whilst being the one who put it to the test was unfairly critical of him, wasn't it?  _

_ Gaius's smile widened as he watched Merlin bow his head and collect his dishes. Gaius was so  _ good  _ to him. How could he so bold as to suggest foul play? He had released a beast in the castle and caused hell for the poor physician and he still made time to serve him a special breakfast. Merlin truly didn't deserve such a kind father figure.  _

_ He left with a soft goodbye, barely meeting Gaius's eyes, and headed to Arthur's chambers. Guilt followed him there every step of the way. _


	14. To Disappear

Gwaine and Gwen had left Morgana's room and were headed towards the physician's chambers. Gwen had come up with a plan, one so simple that it may just work perfectly. 

When they reached the stairs, Gwen stepped to the side. "I'll wait for you here."

Gwaine nodded and climbed his way up, knocking on the rickety wooden door. When no one answered, he slowly pushed it open, ogling at the array of remedies and instruments that littered the room. 

"Hello?" he called, peering back and forth. The room appeared empty and silent. "I'm looking for the physician. I . . . haven't been sleeping." 

When still no response came, he looked to the only other door in the room. Tiptoeing his way across, he gently pushed that door open as well. 

What he saw sent him stumping backward. 

On the bed was a lady, pale and grey and looking wrought with woe as she looked to him, eyes pleading. But she had no mouth, no lips; only smooth, veiny skin. A weak noise came from deep within her throat and she struggled to crawl to the edge of the small mattress, her tangled black locks falling about her face.

"I'm sorry," Gwaine breathed, not knowing what else could be done, and he fled, tearing down the stairs and swinging round to where Gwen was waiting for him.

Upon seeing his face, Gwen gasped. "What happened."

"I think I found your lady," he uttered, tugging on Gwen's arm. 

She hustled to follow and stole into the physician's chambers after him. When she spotted Morgan, she tore her hand away from Gwaine and rushed to her.

"Oh, my lady, what has he done to you?"

Morgana shook her head, laying back into her meager cushions. Gwen held her hand and she felt weak. 

Noises began to echo in from the hall and Morgana's eyes went wide. Moaning and humming she pushed at Guinevere's chest, motioned for her to hide or flee or  _ something. _

Gwaine went back to the door but the main chambers were already being opened, so he shut it, and drew back inside, taking Gwen with him and into the wardrobe. He wrapped his arms around her so that they might fit, and then pulled the doors closed. 

Gaius hobbled in moments later. "Ah, you're awake. I'm surprised you haven't succumbed to the dehydration yet."

Morgan groaned at turned her head away from him. 

"What's that?" the goblin asked, rounding the bed. "I can't understand you."

Morgan turned her head again, but he only continued to follow. 

"I can't hear what you're saying . . . Oh! Ha! That's because you cannot speak." The goblin chuckled and pulled out a vial. "This would help with the dehydration, but I'm afraid that there's no way to administer it to you, unless perhaps I stuffed it up your nose. And unfortunately there is no cream nor poultice that I have heard of that returns missing orifices." He smiled cruelly and poked the part of her face where her mouth should be.

She whipped her head away and would have spit in his face if she were able.

Gwen could see her now, through the meager crack between the doors and her heart went out to Morgana. She was distressed and devastated, her eyes sporting deep, tired bags and her breathing slow and difficult. A tear sprung to her eye and Gwen quickly monitored her breathing, afraid that it may hitch. 

"Don't be so brash," the goblin scolded. "You should spend what little time you have in kindness." He set the medicine down on the nightstand and began to walk away, leaving Morgana exhausted and ever yearning for that remedy. 

But Gaius did not leave the infirmary. Instead he milled about, clinking beakers and flasks together from time to time. When they felt that he was making enough noise, Gwaine and Gwen gradually crept out of the wardrobe, limbs stiff and hearts pounding. 

Morgana looked at them as they crept back into the room, her expression hopeless. 

Gwen knelt down beside her and took her hand in hers. "How long have you been like this?" She asked, voice barely a whisper. 

Morgana held out her other hand, two weak fingers held up in great effort. 

Gwen fought tears and gripped her hand tighter. "Arthur and Merlin are in the cellars. We're going to get you out of here."

Morgana's vision wobbled as she tried not to cry. She shook her head. Even if they left, she could not eat, could not drink. She would be dead within the week, probably sooner. 

"Merlin can heal you," Gwen suggested. 

Morgana's brow pinched up in woe and she closed her eyes for a few moments. Then, she motioned towards Merlin's desk and beckoned with her hand.

Gwen caught on and whispered for Gwaine to hand her some parchment and a pencil. Morgana took it and laid it out on her knees, scribbling into it and smudging charcoal on her arm in her haste. 

She turned the page upward and displayed it to them and Gwen nearly let out a cry. It read:  _ You need to kill him. _

"Oh, Merlin," Gwen sighed as she sunk to her knees. Her heart ached for him. He would never allow them to harm Gaius, but all he hoped for was becoming increasingly impossible.

Gwaine surged forwards, agitated. "Gaius could still be in there somewhere and you would have him die?" he seethed. 

Morgana just shook her head again. There was no hope restoring his mind. Not when the goblin was so cruel and ruthless. 

Gwaine leaned in hesitantly. "I could do it," he offered, and Gwen looked offended. "I don't know him. It would be easier." 

"You  _ can't!  _ Merlin would—"

"Shh!" Gwaine hushed, wary that their voices were growing too loud. 

"Merlin needs to see Gaius, Gwaine. Otherwise he'll forever doubt himself for abandoning him."

_ "Abandoning him?  _ The man tortured him! Merlin didn't even  _ leave!  _ You all stole him away. Otherwise he would have stayed and  _ died." _

"I know that! But Merlin doesn't. He's never been good at being kind to himself."

Gwaine sighed. "What other option do we have?"

"We go back to Arthur and Merlin, and we—"

The door creaked open and they froze. 

Gaius was standing in the doorway, the goblin's smile stretched across his face. He arched an eyebrow and Morgana fell fully back into her pillows in defeat. 

"Why, it looks like you're back from your trip, Guinevere. And who might your friend be?"

Gwen stepped away, heart rabbiting in her chest. 

Gwaine saw no other option, there being only one exit, so he spoke. "Name's Gwaine. I was . . .looking for the physician."

The goblin squinted its eyes at him. "Well luckily for you, here I am."

Gwaine nodded. "Lucky indeed."

With incredible finesse, Gwaine slipped a dagger out of his boot and hoisted it up into the air, posed to throw it. Gwen, eyes wide, cried out. "Gwaine, no!" And pulled at his arm. The knife went flying, catching Gaius in the leg.

Gwaine glared at Gwen, but quickly averted his attention back to the seething physician, who had hollered and began limping violently towards them, hands outstretched like claws. 

Gwaine tugged Gwen out of its path and it stumbled into the wall, knocking trinkets from the nightstand onto a flinching Morgana. 

It turned with a vicious snarl and swiped at them. "No! You won't get far." 

Gwen yelled as she narrowly missed the groping hand and she and Gwaine rushed out into the main chambers. 

"Guards!" the goblin screeched. "The serving wench that aided the sorcerer in kidnapping the prince! She is here!" 

The door barged open just as they reached it and two guards came barreling through. Gwen yelled and turned to run, but her hands were already being shackled, her arms held in a vice grip. Gwaine stood before them, arms and legs spread in a readied stance. A guard took notice of this and brought his spear down onto him, but he was able to catch the pole of it in his fist. Gwaine tugged it towards him, sending the guard into a stumble, and proceeded to shove the goblin into one of the work tables before sprinting for the door. 

The guard recovered and turned to follow, but Gwen shouted his name — "Gwaine!" — and stuck out her foot, tripping his pursuer from where she was restrained.

Gwaine looked back at her from the doorway, giving her a nod in hopes that it would convey his loyalty, that he would come back, that he would fight for them. But then his gaze darkened as Gaius rose back up behind her and he pulled the door shut without hesitation.

Gwen cried silently as the men regrouped. Her bindings were tightened and the goblin shouted and hollered at them to take her away, to have her killed. She was lead stumbling through the halls, her mind buzzing, her heart pounding, and her breath coming in sniffling gasps. Merlin was doomed.

The warning bell sounded. 

Arthur wasn't actually sure what the noise was at first. Being so deep beneath the castle, it sounded more like distant bangs than the rich sounds of Camelot's bell tower. But  _ oh no _ , he'd recognize those tones anywhere. 

They were being hunted again. 

Merlin was staring at him, eyes wide and body stiff. It would be his hide that they were after. It would be his life that they would take. 

"You need to go," Arthur said, without thinking. 

Merlin shook his head. "No."

"Merlin, I know why you don't want to leave but this is serious!" 

Merlin climbed to his feet surprisingly fast. " _ I'm  _ serious!"

Footsteps rang through the stairwell that lead into the palace and Arthur flung his hand out over Merlin's mouth and pulled him behind a cask, holding him there and trying to stay as still and silent as possible. 

The footsteps skidded to a halt and the duo held their breath as they paced further into the cellar, closer and closer to their hiding spot. 

"Merlin?" 

Merlin blew out a loud breath into Arthur's palm and the prince let it fall away. "Gwaine," he sighed, stumbling out into the open with Arthur following warily behind. 

"It's Gwen," Gwaine heaved, pausing to catch his breath. "They've arrested her. Gaius is still possessed and the lady . . ." Gwaine shook his head in horror.

"What?" Arthur asked, sick to his stomach at the thought of Morgana in danger. 

"She's ill. She's dying. She . . . Her mouth. It's gone."

Arthur and Merlin's eyes went wide at the mental picture. Merlin turned to Arthur. 

"I-I can heal her! I c-can't leave." 

"Merlin," Arthur warned. 

"He's right," Gwaine said, staring Arthur down. "Fleeing again seems . . . damning." The chimes of Camelot's bell filled the silence ominously, as though to prove his point. 

"We know how to save Gaius," Merlin reminded them, but Gwaine looked weary at the mention of the old man. "We can ss-s-sneak into his chambers. Dispel the goblin." 

Arthur looked at Merlin as though he was the daftest person alive. "And what? Get passed all of those guards? By now the castle's filled with them." 

Merlin bit his lip and shut his eyes. The bell was giving him a headache. 

"Maybe a disguise?" 

"With what?" 

Gwaine pinched his nose. "I don't know."

"Well we have to think of  _ something!"  _

"Can we not try going straight to the king?"

"He'd never believe us, if he thought Merlin was a sorcerer."

"He  _ is _ a sorcerer."

"I know that! We should flee again."

"Gwen's been arrested for treason. They'll kill her if we don't prove that your Gaius fellow isn't truthful."

"Then we'll have to sneak in through the servants' passages."

"They won't be monitored?"

"Shut up!" Merlin barked, massaging his head. The noises were paining him, and he was tired and scared and all he wanted to do was be through with this. To make it stop. To go back to sweeping Gaius's floor and mucking up potions. But it wasn't going to happen! He was just gonna be stuck like this! Crippled and frightened! 

"Merlin, mate," Gwaine tried, reaching out a comforting hand. 

Merlin shook his head and twitched away. "Just shut up! Okay?" He covered his face with his hands. "I don't w-want to be here anymore." 

He just stood there, his head in his hands, shaking slightly from the panic that still threatened to overwhelm him. He didn't want to think about Gaius or Morgana or the  _ goblin.  _ He just wanted to disappear and come back when things were settled. 

"Merlin?" 

He opened his eyes, but only to the darkness behind his fingers. Arthur sounded startled, worried. 

_ "Merlin?"  _

"What?" He threw his hands down and stared at Arthur, but the prince wasn't looking at him. He was just glancing around, looking frightened. 

"Where are you?" 

Merlin blanked. "What are you talking about, yu-yu-you prat! I'm right in front of you!"

Arthur shivered and looked in Merlin's vague direction in shock, eyes wide and bewildered. Gwaine, however, laughed softly. 

Merlin and Arthur both looked to him in confusion.

"That's brilliant," Gwaine chuckled. "You've gone and vanished."

Merlin and Arthur both turned back to stare at each other in awe, only Arthur missed his mark by quite a bit. He too began to smile, an idea forming. "Merlin? D'you think you could make us  _ all  _ invisible?"


	15. His Own Medicine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio sneaks into the castle.

It took some trial and error. Merlin still wasn't able to focus on his magic in the way he used to, but he managed to turn both of his friends invisible by remembering and replicating the same emotions that he had felt in his panic. The experience reminded him of his first few months in Camelot and how he would will things to happen and his magic would simply oblige. It reminded of that first night, when he had stopped time on a whim to save the strange, old physician. 

Arthur's hold around his hand tightened and he was tugged up another set of stairs. He looked up at his prince's silhouette, his image dark like a shadow. Though no one else could see them in the slightest, they could each make out an imprint of one another in the air. Still, they held hands to stay together.

When they reached the top of the stairs Arthur came to a halt as guards marched buy. Merlin's heart leapt into his throat at the sight of them and he felt his knees buckle.

"Merlin!" Arthur hissed, quietly so that his father's men could not hear.

Gwaine and Arthur hefted him back up as he mumbled an apology. His heart was still pounding, but he managed to stay upright.

When the guards passed, they moved on, climbing the familiar path to Merlin's home. It felt like ages had passed before they'd reached the final stairwell. Merlin had expected to feel something at the sight of Gaius's door, but he found himself numb. The space outside was quiet, the bell sounding distant, the length between him and the door seeming to stretch on for miles until they were right in front of it. 

"Merlin."

He looked over at Arthur. He could vaguely make out a worried expression.

"I'm fine," he whispered, but he wasn't sure. 

With that, they slowly pushed open the door. 

The room beyond appeared empty, so they all stepped inside. 

The door clicked closed behind them and a call sounded from Merlin's old bedroom. "Hello?" 

Merlin froze and felt Arthur grip his shoulder firmly. His breath caught in his throat and he shrugged away, slowly moving towards the table of potions. 

Gaius came hobbling out and Merlin could feel his presence in the room but refused to look. Instead, he carefully looked at each bottle, turning them so that their labels were shown plainly. One of them had a nick in it's base and it turned off center, clinking into the side of a large beaker. 

Gaius's gaze panned over to his work table and he squinted at it. Merlin held his breath and tried not to move, his hand still on the potion. He could feel both Gaius and his friends' eyes on him as he swallowed thickly. 

After a pause, Gaius walked towards his table, stopping short of where Merlin was standing. He looked through Merlin, seemingly trying to make sure that none of his potions or remedies were missing from his collection. Merlin bit down on his lips and focused on not shaking. 

Gwaine, ever the opportunist, picked up a pestle that was lying out of Gaius's line of sight and threw it across the room. 

Gaius, or rather the goblin, turned sharply and grumbled. He stalked towards the crash and leaned down over it. 

Merlin took the opportunity to let go of the vial and circle around to the farther side of the table. He was trembling, however, and he bumped into its side, causing the contents to rattle and quake as he pressed himself against the wall. 

Gaius looked back at it, considered it from a distance. Then, he casually walked over and looked at the menagerie with indifference. He circled the table, strolling around it. Merlin backed away, stepping back towards the middle of the room to keep from touching him.

But Gaius's eyes rolled down towards the ground and he stopped. Merlin stuttered to a halt and winced. He too could hear how his boots had shuffled against the floor. 

Gaius let his gaze come back up and he guessed very well where Merlin's eyes were. Then, he smiled. 

"Merlin, my boy."

A shaky breath left Merlin and he melted back into view. His eyes were red and his complexion pale. This was Gaius who stood before him. No goblin or beast. He had the same kind eyes, the same worried smile. 

"Where have you been? You've been worrying me to death. I've had Uther send his men across the kingdom to find you."

Merlin shook his head, inching backward. "I don't . . . G-gaius I . . ."

Gaius shushed him. "No need. Come, let me look over you."

Gaius reached forwards and Merlin didn't realize why until his hand was already about his wrist, guiding him towards a chair. 

He sat in it, looking up at his guardian hopelessly.

Gaius pushed his seat closer to the fire before placing a quick hand on his forehead. "No fever," he muttered, before moving back to his medicines.

Merlin looked at him over his shoulder. Arthur and Gwaine were slinking around at the far end of the room, still invisible. He frowned at them, unsure as to what they were doing. But then Gaius came back and his focus was corrected. 

"You really should have come home sooner. I could have prevented much of what has happened to you."

Merlin hummed and Gaius moved to peel back his eyelids and examine his pupils. He huffed and stepped back, nodding to himself. 

"I'm afraid you've fallen victim to the hysteria, Merlin."

"W-whu-w-w-woo—"

"The prince came down with it as well, shortly before you left. He was convinced that there were beasts roaming the halls. Then that Camelot's citizens themselves were beasts! Eventually he even thought himself a mule!"

"He-he w-was."

"Oh dear," Gaius replied. "You really should not have gone off on your own in this state."

"M-my own?"

"Indeed. Though you may not have felt that way. You are incredibly ill, Merlin. Things are not likely to be as they seem." 

"But—"

Gaius shook his head. "The hysteria has taken hold of you, my boy. Arthur has been resting in his chambers these past weeks, recovering just as you shall."

Merlin stared up at him. The more he thought about it, the more it made some sort of crooked sense. He had been holed up in a room the entire time, or at least that's how he had perceived it. He had never actually seen Arthur or Gwen interact with the innkeeper. Gwaine might as well have just been a mirage, thought up as someone to blame. Hell, he'd even turned himself and his friends invisible once they had arrived in Camelot. Perhaps it was the hysteria's twisted way of making sure that everything made sense. If this Arthur and Gwaine were not real, then surely he would have to be sure that there was a reason that no one could see them. 

And Gaius! He had somehow convinced himself that his own father figure was possessed but instead he had probably been lazing through the woods and worrying him to death!

Tears started to fall down his face and he moved to speak, to apologize,  _ something _ , but he just let out a sorrowful moan. 

"Oh, my dear boy." Gaius leaned forward and pulled him into a hug. Merlin sobbed and clung onto him, hiccuping breaths sputtering out of him. 

He let Gaius's robe soak up his tears and, when he looked up. Arthur was standing over him, Gwaine just behind. 

He frowned at them, wishing he would stop seeing these illusions, but then Arthur raised his hand, the pommel of a sword posed to knock out the physician.

"No!" Merlin shouted, and his magic sent them flying back into the far wall, where they crashed and knocked about the hanging herbs and tools. 

Gaius started and looked over his shoulder at the mess. Then he quickly turned back to look at Merlin. 

"You are on edge, my boy. Let me calm your nerves."

Merlin nodded, still trying to control his breathing.

Gaius shuffled away and milled about his supplies. Merlin stared at the wall, looked at Arthur and Gwaine, and willed them to stop existing, but they stubbornly remained. When Gaius returned, it was with a hot, steaming tea and plate of toasted bread. Merlin offered him a shy smile in thanks and took the plate into his lap. 

"Your favorite." 

Merlin looked down at the familiar meal. On each piece of toast was a thick coating of jam. It was paste-like and dark, rich pink in color. The sickly sweet smell reached his nose and he felt himself salivating.

As he looked down at the food, his stomach dropped. This was the same tangy jam that had fogged up his mind before he had been taken away by Gwen and Arthur. This was the potion in disguise that Gaius had drugged him with time and time again — whenever he questioned him, whenever he looked too far into things. 

Merlin really thought he must be an idiot because  _ Gaius _ , Gaius was the goblin. He knew that. He'd proven it. And yet still that little creature had made him believe otherwise within minutes. 

"Merlin?"

Merlin looked up at the man above him. He was watching expectantly, eagerly, almost impatiently. Merlin let his eyes slide away from him and back to the friends that he had attacked. They were looking back at him, having come to, pleading with their eyes for him not to eat, not to listen. 

"Are you not hungry?"

Merlin looked back at Gaius's face and winced as he saw it wearing the goblin's expression. It was so  _ hard  _ to look at that face and see some creature, some devil. This was  _ Gaius. _

And yet it was not.

It hadn't been for a long while now. 

Merlin shook his head, trembling anew. 

"What is it?"

"No." 

"No? Well, just drink your tea then."

Merlin looked at the tea, sat on the table beside him. "No."

"Merlin, the hysteria has—"

"No." 

Gaius paused and looked down at him, facade falling away, though only slightly. 

"No," Merlin gasped in a panic. "No." He wished to say more but could not find the proper control over his tongue. 

"My boy," — why must he keep calling him that? — "you are ill. Please, drink your tea. It will help. Eat your toast. You always felt better after." 

"I d-don't  _ want  _ to fu-feel bu-better. Not wuh-w-when things aren't r-really . . . b-b-beh-b-buh mmm." Merlin bit his lip, trying to calm himself. 

"Better?" the goblin supplied. "Please, Merlin you can hardly talk." 

"Because of you!" Merlin blurted out. He looked just as shocked as the goblin at the accusation. 

The beast narrowed its eyes at him, furious. Merlin shrunk in on himself in the chair. The goblin grabbed Merlin's wrist before he could react and tightened his fist around it. "You," he yanked Merlin up, bringing their faces close to each other, "are filled with  _ lies, _ Merlin. The  _ hysteria  _ has twisted your mind!"

"No." Merlin winced and the goblin's grip tightened around his good hand. He started crying again. He didn't know what to do. He looked up into Gaius's eyes, pleading. "Please, Gaius," he said in a low and woeful voice. "Please. I nnn-need you to-to come back. I c-can't . . . I don't kn-know wh-whu-what to do!  _ Please." _

The face before him frowned as he cried, as he scrambles to hold onto Gaius's shoulder with his lame hand, to  _ cling  _ to him like he was his only hope. His expression softened and, for a moment, Merlin thought that  _ somehow _ his plea had worked.

"I tried to help you, Merlin. I tried to make this easy."

Merlin looked up at him, confused. Desperate. But Gaius's frown turned into a scowl and his free hand reeled back to reveal a dagger, posed to strike. 

"No! No, no, no, no, no!" Merlin blabbed, trying to pull away, to release himself. But the goblin's grip was vice and his legs were tangled in those of the chair. He winced and hissed, trying to find his bearings. But Gaius's — the goblin's hand came down and he shut his eyes. 

But nothing came. The goblin grunted and Merlin looked up to find Arthur's hand around his arm. Then Gwaine came to his side and pried the dagger from his fist before brandishing it at the old man. 

The goblin growled in frustration, jabbing back his elbow and catching Arthur in the chin, causing him to let go and stumble back. The goblin threw Merlin to ground and he cried out as he landed. Scrabbling for purchase on the floor, he crawled away. 

The goblin moved to step closer to him but Gwaine was ready with the point of his blade at the creature's throat —  _ Gaius's throat. _

"No!" Merlin gasped. His eyes, wide with panic, glowed gold and the dagger fell apart in Gwaine's hands, trickling to the floor like sand. 

"Merlin!" Arthur yelled in despair. 

"Gaius," was all that Merlin could think to say as an answer, and it barely managed it's way out of his mouth.

Arthur ran past Gwaine and grabbed Gaius, yanking him back and wrapping his arm around his neck to hold him in place. Gwaine surged forward and stopped the creature from getting at Arthur's face by snatching his wrists and pulling them all to their knees. 

The goblin struggled and its magic shone through Gaius's eyes. Arthur and Gwaine cried out in pain, but sustained their hold.

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted, biting back his agony. "Merlin, his potions!"

Eyes wide, Merlin realized what Arthur was implying and launched unsteadily to his feet. He threw himself against the table and took up the first vial he could get his hands on. Then, panting and crying and trying not to just collapse under the stress of it all, he stumbled into the three of them, nearly knocking them all over. 

Arthur took a trembling, pulsing hand and held Gaius's chin with a grunt, trying not to scream from whatever spell the goblin had cast. He forced its lips into a pucker as Merlin uncorked the vial. 

He shook so tremendously that the contents spilled over his fingers, down his arms, and over Gaius's chin, but he pressed through and forced the rim between Gaius's lips and poured.

"I'm sorry," Merlin mumbled, barely coherent. "Mmm-mmm. G-gaius . . .  _ please." _

The vial was empty.

The room was silent.

Save for the sound of all their exhausted breaths clouding together.

When nothing happened, Arthur loosened his grip. Gwaine sat back on his haunches, and Merlin looked up at Gaius and wept. 

But then the goblin snapped its head up and spat the potion back at Merlin. It screamed. It glowed. It sent the three of them flying back and away from them. 

Merlin's head collided with the bottom edge of the loft and he fell to the floor. Dizzy and tired, he looked up to see the blurry form of Gaius slumping over. He trembled, convulsed, and something gold and shimmering was purged sickeningly out of him and onto the floor. 

It had worked.


	16. Medicine Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin confronts Gaius.

He was vaguely aware of a commotion, of people touching him, tugging at him, pushing and pulling his body this way and that. Arthur's voice was loud and furious but far away. Gwaine was by his hear. He had some abstract sense of Uther, his guards . . . and Gaius. 

But he did not know what happened.

"Merlin?" 

Merlin's eyes fluttered open and he saw Arthur looking down at him. A bruise decorated his jaw, but his hair was combed and his clothes were fresh and neat. He felt the prince touch his shoulder, but he couldn't see him anymore. Everything had gone black.

"Hey."

"Arthur, he's not—"

"Merlin?"

Arthur was there again, but it was darker and Merlin was sitting up. He looked around the chambers and saw Gwaine staring at him in disbelief from his stool. He saw that the room was still a mess; tools and baskets scattered on the floor, stains soaking into the wood, broken glass haphazardly swept into piles, but not yet disposed of. 

But no Gaius.

Merlin tried to speak, but his mouth refused to open and he instead produced a strange noise from the back of his throat. 

"You with us?" Gwaine stood and moved closer. 

"G'us," Merlin slurred, still searching.

"He's fine," Arthur dismissed. "Merlin. Look at me."

It took some effort but Merlin locked eyes with Arthur.

"It's Morgana." He sounded tired. He looked it too. "She's fading."

"Wha'?"

"Gaius couldn't restore her mouth. She needs magic."

Merlin hummed. He couldn't quite recall what had happened to her. 

Arthur bit his lip. "She won't last another night, Merlin, please."

Nodding, Merlin turned to get out of the patient's bed.

"Woah, easy mate." Gwaine's hand was at his chest. "We're gonna have to help you to her."

"You can rest all you need after, I promise."

Merlin hummed again, and he let them slowly guide him across the room and up the stairs. 

The sight that met him nearly made him vomit. 

Morgana was motionless on his bed, her skin grey and her eyes half lidded and vacant. They flickered vaguely in Merlin's direction, but that was the only noticeable sign of life. 

Merlin shrugged his friends off once he had his hand on the bed post. He placed two of his fingers on her face, letting them slide across the smooth skin where there should have been the curve of her lips and the crease of her mouth. 

"I don't kn . . . What." Merlin wasn't sure what he was trying to say. His thoughts were dancing just out of reach. 

Arthur and Gwaine hung their heads. Merlin felt guilty but he wasn't sure why.

He leaned more heavily on the bed post and opened up his good hand to place it fully over the enchanted portion of Morgana's face. He tried to tell himself what she needed; that she needed to eat, to drink, to breathe. He tried to take that guilt and find a reason for it. He pushed it all to the front of his mind and pressed down onto Morgana's flesh. 

Merlin gasped quietly and he could feel magic coursing into her. He felt her lips form beneath his palm and a warm breath ghosted into the space between his hand and her skin. 

He removed himself from her and she gasped. Her eyes glistened but she did not cry. Arthur surged forward, held her up, and hugged her. Gwaine ran to fetch some water, maybe some broth. 

Merlin smiled and let out a huff of a laugh, relieved. 

He couldn't remember what happened after that but he felt sore.

"He's exhausted." 

The voice was muffled, but it sounded like Morgana.

"He's been in and out for the past week!"

Arthur.

"You can't bring Gaius in here. If he says that Merlin is fine, I think it's best that we keep him here." 

"You call this fine?"

"Gaius will only make things worse. You saw how he panicked."

Merlin couldn't recall seeing Gaius in a long time. His memory was fuzzy. He had a sense of what had happened but was reluctant to remember. The feelings he felt made him squirm.

A door opened and footsteps trailed into the room. "How is he?" It was Gwen.

Arthur sighed so loudly that Merlin could hear it from where he was. He opened his eyes at the thought, realizing that he was not, in fact, in his own bed.

"He's resting . . . still. He drank some water last night but we was out cold this morning."

Merlin did feel thirsty as he slowly lifted his head. A headache began to pound behind his eyes and he squeezed them shut. 

"Gaius is restless."

"We all are."

"Uther is still interrogating him about the incident. He's trying to censor his explanation but I'm worried that he will accidentally incriminate Merlin."

"But we rescued Gaius using the goblin's potions. There should be no need to mention Merlin's magic."

Someone shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not sure he's prepared to explain my recovery. No mortal remedy would have been able to return my mouth to me."

"Has he thought to credit it to the goblin's defeat? Or the use of his potions."

"I don't know. I have not been present for their talks. I only know what Gaius has told me." 

Arthur made a frustrated noise. It was then that Merlin realized that he was actually in the prince's antechamber on a meager cot. The room was dark and musty with no windows, the only light seeping in through a crack in the door. 

"May I see him?" Gwen asked after a tense silence. No one replied but shortly after the door swung open and Merlin shut his eyes again with a moan. 

"Merlin!" Arthur cheered, coming in quickly. He knelt beside his bed and searched his friend's face. "Do you need anything?"

Merlin frowned at him. Arthur was showing far too much concern. Normally the prince would keep things nonchalant or even brush him off. It took great effort for the man to express worry. Merlin really must have given him a fright. 

"Tired," he tried to say, but the word got caught in his throat and he let out a cough. 

"I'll get you some water," Arthur said with a nod before running back out of the room. 

Gwen took his place by the bed and plumped up Merlin's pillows so that he could sit up more comfortably. 

"You've been out for a few days." Morgana was standing in the doorway. She brought her hand to her mouth and held two fingers over her lips, feeling them. "You passed out after you healed me." 

Merlin hummed and let his eyes droop closed. No matter how many days he had slept, he still felt exhausted. 

"Gaius . . . I mean . . . You should be fine with time," Gwen explained awkwardly. "Your head wound was minor. You were mostly just weak from using your magic in that condition. Plus, you were still recovering from the apoplexy . . . or stroke. I'm not sure what's right to say."

Merlin hummed again and took deep breaths. Arthur shoved his way into the small room with a goblet and a napkin. "Here."

Merlin opened his eyes and took the water in his good hand. He drank from it slowly but stopped when it dribbled past his lips and down his chin. He moved to put the cup down somewhere but there was no nightstand in reach. Flustered, he blushed and leaned forward to stop the water from dripping down his front. 

Gwen noticed his struggle and took the cup from him. Shaking slightly, he wiped his face with the cloth Arthur had provided. Then he swallowed quickly.

"Sorry," he mumbled, though he wasn't sure what for. 

"It's alright, Merlin," Gwen assured, taking the rag from him as well. 

Merlin's eyes widened and he stared up at her. "Gwen! They to-to-took you-you to the d-dungeons! Are yuh-yuh-yuh-you oooh . . . mmm you . . ."

Gwen shook her head, motioning for Merlin to stop talking. "I'm fine, Merlin. I was let out within the day. Arthur explained things to Uther. We've all been pardoned." 

Merlin nodded, not feeling as though he'd be able to manage words very well at the moment. "Gwaine?" he asked slowly. 

"He's fine as well. In fact, he may still be sleeping in. He'd gotten quite tipsy last night." Gwen spoke the last part in a mischievous whisper.

Merlin smiled tiredly. 

"Hey, stay awake," Arthur chastised, shoving his shoulder. "You need to eat something."

"M'kay." 

"I'll get something from the kitchens." Morgana stepped out of the room and Merlin listened as her footsteps faded away. 

"You've been a lazy sod these past few days, you know that?" 

Merlin harrumphed, but the jest failed to liven him up any more than that. 

"My socks need washing. You should see the state of my chambers!"

Merlin picked his head up at that and looked out the door and into the large room. It wasn't as bad as Arthur suggested it might be. "Why am I heh-here?" 

"What do you mean?"

"I'm in you-yuh-your antech-chamber."

"Oh."

Gwen leaned forward. "You were . . . in a different state of mind back in your room. It wasn't good for you." 

"How?"

Gwen bit her lip and shared a look with Arthur. "You were on edge whenever you came to."

"You did receive a rather dizzying knock on the head," Arthur elaborated. "We'd gotten you to take a variety of remedies for it as well."

Gwen nodded. "You were delirious most of the time. But Gaius said that there was no real reason to worry."

Merlin's eyes brightened. "Is he alright?"

Gwen and Arthur froze, reluctant to answer.

Arthur looked away from him. "He's fine."

"Wh-where is he?" 

Gwen gave him an apologetic look and took his hands in hers. "Merlin, we're not sure that it's a good idea for him to see you just yet."

"He-he's fine? He's n-n-no longer p-possessed?"

She nodded.

"Where . . ."

She squeezed his hands. "Merlin," she sighed. "I'm sorry. Whenever you woke and he was there . . . You were in a panic. I think you should wait until you're more rested before you see him again."

Merlin gave her a steely look, like he may deny it, may protest. But instead, he nodded and averted his eyes.

Morgana came back with the food and Merlin felt invaded as he ate. They all loomed over him, scrutinizing him, making sure that he licked the bowl clean. He knew that they were just doing so for his health, but he felt humiliated. He'd  _ been  _ humiliated ever since they pulled him out of the chest and he was  _ tired  _ of feeling so useless and inadequate. He just wanted to get better. He wanted to walk on his own, have some privacy, see Gaius. 

He wanted to see Gaius, to see that he was well again, to learn that he was safe again.

But now, he was tired once more.

He awoke the next morning. And then the morning after that. And then again the next day.

It all felt rather familiar. He was partially bedridden, confined to these rooms with people serving him, helping him, telling him to take it easy. 

It was maddening.

All this distance they had traveled to get back home only served to put Merlin in the same, sorry situation. Arthur, Morgana, and Gwen would argue over Gaius or his medicine, his recovery, all whilst Gwaine distracted him with tavern stories and love triangles.

He was exhausted. His healing had, at last, plateaued and, though he was rather upset by the condition he was stuck in, he decided that enough was enough.

He would see Gaius.

"No, Merlin. There's no need. You've been doing fine these last few days."

Merlin raised his eyebrows, though one raised higher than the other nowadays - an odd reflection of his mentor. "Just a f-f-few weeks ago, you were insi-si-sisting that he attend to me."

Arthur turned back to his paperwork. "Yes, but you recovered well on your own. Bringing Gaius all the way down here would be unnecessary."

"Then I'll go t-to him."

Arthur shook his head. "I don't see  _ why _ ."

"Really? You don't?"

The prince looked up in confusion. "Merlin, I—"

"He's like a-ka a father to me. You know that."

Arthur appeared surprised, yet nervous.

"Ha-has he asked for me?" 

Arthur bit his lip.

_ "Arthur." _

"I don't . . ." Arthur blurted, feeling pressured. Then he paused, thought about what he wanted to say. "I don't think you're ready." 

"And when will I be?" Merlin challenged. 

Arthur appeared stunned, eyes glistening and head shaking ever so slightly in the negative. "Merlin . . ."

Merlin stood from his bed and Arthur took a step back. Unsteady on his feet though he was, Merlin stood as proudly as he was able and stared Arthur down. 

The prince swallowed. He turned away from Merlin. "You were distressed when Gaius came to visit you. It is unwise for you to seek him out." He spoke like Merlin's master instead of his friend; an order masked by an opinion.

But Merlin hardly was known for obeying orders. 

He bit his lip and shook his head in exasperation. Then, he started to pace across the room. 

Arthur started, turned around to see him precariously stride towards the door unaided. 

"Wait."

"No."

"Merlin!"

"You can either huh-help me or stay here," Merlin stated. There was no room for argument.

Arthur broke in front of him before he could reach the door. "Alright! Merlin!" He held his hands out in front of him to stop Merlin from evading him. "I will get Gaius . . . Just  _ sit down. _ You have no business walking on your own until we get that cane finished for you."

Merlin stopped trying to proceed, but he did not withdraw. 

"I promise. I'll bring him here."

Merlin looked past him to the door, then back at his face. He nodded. "Alright."

Merlin did as he was asked and was waiting in Arthur's furred chair. He had turned it away from the table, facing the door. He was eager to finally see his mentor again. 

He was beginning to wonder if he had forgotten what Gaius looked like. 

Arthur had been gone some time. Either that, or time was moving rather slowly. He picked at his cuticles, praying that he hadn't broken his word. 

The door creaked open and Merlin started upright. He stared at the dark space into the hallway. Arthur strolled in past his gaze and stood anxiously to the side. Merlin held his breath as the doorway opened wider.

And in hobbled Gaius.

Merlin just kept on staring. 

For whatever reason, Merlin had expected Gaius to look  _ different  _ somehow. Perhaps he would smile more widely. Maybe he'd look cleaner, healthier. If anything he looked rather ill where he stood, face pale and expression wary. He had expected his features to have smoothed out out somehow, for any hard lines or sharp edges to have melted away. He should look younger. He should look kinder. 

Instead he just looked sad. 

"Merlin," Gaius said, when Merlin did not move or breathe, and his voice sounded the same. "My boy." He took a few hesitant steps forward and worried at his upper lip. 

"Gaius?" Merlin finally uttered, and it were as though he suddenly wasn't sure. This man looked no different than the man who had struck him. This man's voice was no different than the voice that had slandered him. His hands . . . they were still rough and chapped as they always were. 

"It is me, Merlin," Gaius affirmed with a small nod. His hands were folded in front of him, one thumb nervously rubbing the back of his other hand. 

He wore the same clothes as the man who stood over him, aching on the floor. Those loose sleeves had brushed against his back as he was made to crawl into a lead crate. Those eyes looked into his as he made false promises before shutting and locking the lid for good. 

"How are you healing?" Gaius offered. "I hear Arthur has commissioned a cane for you?"

"Yes. He has."

Gaius's eyes welled with tears and he bit his lips harder. "Merlin . . ."

"Do not . . . D-do not apologize to me." Merlin didn't know why he'd said it. It seemed to have burst forth from the back of his mind. 

Gaius retreated in thought for a long moment. "I am glad that you wished to see me, Merlin . . . But if you are not ready . . ."

"Enough with whether I'm re-ready or-or not. I just want . . ." He did not know what he wanted. He hadn't even thought about what might happen once this moment came. Frustrated, he pulled himself up and onto his feet. "I need you to be Gaius."

Gaius looked to Arthur and they shared a confused glance. 

"Stop this," Merlin said. "Be Gaius. St-stop acting as though you've d-done something so that I can know that you didn't."

Gaius's mouth fell open and he looked at Merlin with new understanding. Guilt itched at his lips and pulled at his heart, but he swallowed it down. He looked lost for a moment, as though he'd just woken up after these past months — and, in a way, maybe he had. 

Finding himself at last, he said, desperate and hopeful, "I've missed you, Merlin."

Merlin let out a sigh of relief. "I have mmm-m-missed you as well . . . Gaius."

Both bodies breathing heavily, they  _ looked  _ at one another. In that moment, Merlin was able to see  _ Gaius _ , to see a physician, a healer, a tender old man who was anything but cruel and as much a father as one could be. And Gaius, he saw  _ Merlin _ , he saw his wayward boy who needed a guiding hand, his ward, his apprentice, his son in all but blood. In this instance, Gaius was no abuser and Merlin was no poor victim. They were just  _ people _ , a little exhausted, a little worse for wear, but people nonetheless. 

"I'm sorry." He'd said it without thinking Then the old man bit his lip and shook his head in apology, but Merlin had already tightened his embrace and leaned into his chest. "I could never harm you, my boy."

"I know," Merlin said, and he realized, after all that had happened, that that was why Merlin had never questioned the goblin. Gaius was a healer at his core. To suggest that he had been abusing Merlin would have been preposterous, had it been truly him. It was why Merlin had taken the blows, had bowed his head and accepted them as necessary punishment. And he still thought that, in the back of his mind. He still sometimes felt as though he was being punished for some wrong. 

But he would learn to  _ unlearn _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left ;)


	17. There's No Such Thing As Goblin Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is finally home.

"Ready?"

Merlin nodded, taking up his cane and limping after the crew. Gwaine and the dashing Percival and Elyan lugged crates and bags past him as he stood. Arthur offered his hand and he placed his right hand in his grip. He received a squeeze and he flexed his fingers the best that he could in response. 

The boat was impressive, at least to Merlin. It wasn't the grandest ship that ever sailed, but it was a sight to behold for those who were used to dry land. He could see the captain making his final adjustments before departure, Gwen's silhouette in the window of a cabin as she readied herself for the journey.

Arthur led Merlin to the boarding platform and paused. He looked down at their feet, toes all but touching the wooden ramp. Merlin watched him and smiled.

Arthur was king now. 

Clearing his throat, Arthur nodded to Merlin and stepped up onto the ramp. 

A king no longer.

Merlin's smile turned into a grin as he followed him on board. Some strain left Arthur's shoulders as he breathed in the sea air. His knights — his friends greeted him on the deck. His queen — his wife met with them in the cabin. And his shaman — his dearest friend was safe by his side. He was a little worse for wear, but wasn't that always the case with Merlin? 

"Your sure Gaius will be alright on his own?"

Merlin nodded. "Gili is more than happy to help. Heh-he has r-really taken to Gaius."

"Good." A mischievous smile crept onto Arthur's face. "He  _ is  _ far more competent in healing magic than you ever were."

Merlin chuckled and shook his head. 

"Why are you so quiet?" Gwen asked, trying to catch Merlin's gaze. 

"Don't tell me you're afraid of the ocean  _ now,  _ Merlin!" Arthur jeered.

"No, no," Merlin laughed. He looked out the window at the dock, at the trail beyond it that lead home. 

"What then?" Arthur asked, softer.

Merlin hummed, closed his eyes and thought for a moment. "I am . . . I will mm-miss Gaius." 

Arthur rested his hand on his friend's back in comfort. 

"He will be there when we return," Gwen encouraged. 

"A fortnight's break from your chatter will do him good." 

Merlin barked out a laugh. 

"But really, Merlin. He'll be fine."

Merlin sighed. 

"And you'll be fine too," Gwen added.

He smiled and his eyes crinkled in that merry way; the grin he wore when he was tired, but content. 

"Sire."

They all turned to find a young boy at the door, his hair a mop of shaggy tendrils and eyes wide and curious. 

"Please, call me Arthur."

The boy nodded. "We are ready to depart."

"So be it," Arthur said, and he followed the boy out of the cabin, Merlin and Gwen at his heels.

Gwaine brought a chair out and laid it on the deck near the bow. Merlin gratefully lowered himself into it, and Gwaine left him with a wink to go rejoin his fellow men. 

They waited for a long while before the ship actually parted from the earth. The sails were raised and adjusted and the very wind that tousled their hair beat against the canvas and took them out towards the horizon. 

Merlin looked back at the shore line and watched as it shrunk into the distance. He saw the trees and dirt and distant mountains all merge into a small sliver, and then into nothing at all. 

Once his home was gone, he looked to the sea and relished in the delight of a new adventure; one without pain and without foes. Naught but the far away lands and wonders of the water awaited them. 

And it was nice. 

Merlin was grateful for the change, for the chance to fly above the vast expanses of the ocean. But when their two weeks came to a close, he found that he much preferred to watch the land rise up out of the water, to watch the trees grow from behind the curve of the earth. He saw the mountains fade into view and even convinced himself that he could make out Camelot's tallest spire from such a distance.

He was always nervous coming home. He was afraid that Gaius would be someone else, that one might steal his skin whenever his back was turned. Every day he seemed to have to remind himself who Gaius was. He had to pick apart his memories to be sure that he was still the kind old man that he was meant to be. 

Sometimes, he would jump, he would startle. His stammer would worsen and Gaius would realize that his old ward may not be in the best way, and he not the best company. And Merlin would stumble through the castle until he found a quiet room to sit in. Gwaine would find him sitting by the hearth and quietly retreat to go fetch Arthur, or Gwen, or even Morgana on occasion. And his friends would distract him until his nerves were settled and he could sweat the edge off.

There wasn't much else that could be done. Time had done its healing. Things were never going to be perfect. Though now a knight of Camelot, Gwane still felt cooped up in the castle from time to time. Though queen, Gwen would still find time to tend to her hobbies; sewing clothes or helping her brother at the forge. Though a shaman and royal seer, Morgana still had quarrels with Morgause and old alliances that would tease her darker thoughts. Though  _ king _ , Arthur would still take leave to show his friend the sea and simply be a person for a few weeks, if only to remind himself that he was one. 

And Merlin, though accepted and praised and happy as could possibly be, still had to use his cane, had to learn to write with his left hand, had to take breaks both from work and from Gaius. And Gaius, though himself at last, would soon retire and Merlin would secretly be glad that it was no longer he who handed him potions when he was ill. 

Though all was well, not  _ all  _ was well. But that perhaps may just be the way these things work. And if Merlin, tired and stressed, ever saw Gaius and trembled, Arthur would be there for him. Gwen would be there for him. Morgana would be there for him. Gwaine would be there for him. 

And in the morning, if all was well, Gaius would be there too.

**Author's Note:**

> Do not underestimate my ability to turn a comedy episode into something sad, alright?


End file.
